The Lucky Ones
by T Traveller
Summary: A canon-ish tale of two lovers, lucky beyond measure. They share a ferocious, inviolate love. OOC/HEA/No Cheating. Warning: Language/Adult Situations.
1. If Mama Ain't Happy

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 1**

 **If Mama Ain't Happy**

 **Sunday, May 1, 2011**

 **Christian**

"Well, lookie here. It's the douche lord on the down low. Nice of you to join us, bro."

We're gathered for one of my parents' Sunday brunches, and right out of the gate, there it is, Elliot's needling. Of course, big brother arrived before me, and has had an opportunity to charm our mother with big smiles and hugs, things I can't give her.

All I can offer is a bouquet of red peonies along with two bottles of Veuve Clicquot. I hand the champagne off to Gretchen, the housekeeper.

Dad is on his feet, quick with a handshake, the only affection I can accept from him.

"Son, it's great to see you. It's been almost a month. What've you been working on?"

I bend down to give my mother a kiss on each cheek, and after I place the flowers on the table between her and Elliot, she eagerly takes my hands in hers, giving them a squeeze.

"Peonies…so fragrant and beautiful." Mother picks up the bouquet and lowers her nose into the blooms to enjoy the scent. "Thank you. We've missed you, darling. Yes, tell us. What's been keeping you busy?"

While I'm always swamped with work, I haven't been occupied by anything especially exciting. There's no particular reason for not seeing my family, no legitimate excuse for not socializing. A few weeks ago, John Flynn, my psychiatrist, and I spent two entire sessions discussing my avoidance of family. The truth is I don't feel I fit in. It's a symptom of my self-loathing, I believe.

"Ros and I have been working that port acquisition deal in Taiwan, and it's all been dicey. The deal still isn't done. But the good news is I made a shit ton of money recently by breaking apart a pharmaceutical company in North Carolina."

Mother and Dad nod their heads and smile.

"I know I haven't seen you in a while, but it's great to be with you today," I add. It's a weak attempt to please my family.

Elliot rolls his eyes at me, silently calling me out on my bullshit.

Mother rises, bouquet in hand. She once again takes in its sweet fragrance.

"Sit here, Christian, next to Elliot, so you two can catch up. I want to get these flowers in water and check on the food. Thank you for the champagne, darling, it's perfect for our mimosas."

As soon as Mother leaves the room, Dad winks conspiratorially. He speaks with paternal authority.

"A week from today is Mother's Day. I'd like to plan something special, a surprise, for your mother and grandmother. Could you two organize your schedules to get away for a long weekend? I was thinking Montana, unless either of you have better ideas. Mia says she can get released a couple of weeks early from her apprenticeship to be home from Paris. She's arriving late Wednesday night and is hoping to spend the night at Escala, so she can surprise your mother on Thursday. Will that work for you, Christian?"

I'm uncomfortable being in anyone's company for very long, even my family's, and I bristle at my dad's weekend plan.

"Mia is always welcome to spend the night, but how long a weekend are we talking about?"

"I thought we could leave Thursday afternoon and return on Monday night. I know it's short notice, but it's been a long time since we've gone away as a family. It would mean the world to your mother, your grandparents, and also to me. Mia was jumping for joy at the idea."

Everyone in my family knows I have a special fondness for my baby sister, so when they want me to do something, they only have to invoke her name.

Elliot, the loving son and social butterfly manwhore, jumps right in.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make this work. And Mia…well, Mom will flip her shit at that surprise. Chrissy, we can take your jet, right?"

I can't think of how to get out of this trip, but I don't want to commit to it.

"Of course, you can take the jet. I must go over my schedule with Andrea and run through some things with Ros, before I can make a commitment to the trip. In the meantime, Andrea can contact Stephan about readying the jet."

I pull out my phone and send a quick e-mail to Andrea about the jet.

Elliot glances my way, then looks down at the floor dejectedly, as if he'd actually miss me not being there. As much as I shut my brother out, I truly admire him. I wish I were open and loving like Elliot. He continues to hold himself open to me, even when I repeatedly rebuff him.

"Son, do what you've gotta do. We understand you have a business to run." Dad's jaw tightens as he tries to mask his disappointment.

"Bro, it would mean a lot if you could make it. I'll plan a special hike just for you, me, and Mia."

Shit, Elliot sounds so sincere. The trip seems important to him. I haven't seen Grandmother and Grandfather Trevelyan in several weeks.

Actually, the last time I saw my grandparents was the weekend after I terminated my contract with Susannah, and that was three months ago. Normal people track time by events like births, weddings, deaths, or natural disasters. I, being the antithesis of normal, measure time in relation to the comings and goings of my contracted submissives.

Brunch at my parents' home is, as always, a delicious meal. Today we feast on smoked salmon served on a bed of arugula and avocado.

Elliot and I sit directly across from Mother and Dad. Dad and Elliot are unusually quiet today. Mother is in a maudlin mood, something altogether uncharacteristic for her, and I think this has dampened the exuberance I typically witness from Dad and Elliot.

Mother is missing Mia. She speaks sadly about the passage of time, reminiscing about our early schooldays. Mother quiets for a moment, turns to my brother, and stuns me with her soft, stern voice.

"Elliot, this skirt-chasing of yours has gone on long enough."

Holy shit, where is this conversation headed?

"Do you need rehab for sex addiction? You're thirty-one years old, and you've been recklessly sleeping around since you were sixteen. It needs to stop. Do you hear me? I only want to see you happy. You'd be a fantastic father, and with the right woman, you would be a devoted husband. I thought perhaps Gia, that architect, would be a good match for you, but I hear she enjoys playing the field as much as you do."

Mother is being polite about Gia Matteo, using "playing the field" as a euphemism for fucking anything with money and a dick.

"Elliot, please. Look at me. I'm terribly worried about you and concerned for your long term happiness."

Mother is wound up, and there's no stopping her. Elliot has no choice but to listen. I've never seen this side of my mother. Since we children attained adulthood, Grace Trevelyan-Grey has not once been meddlesome, nor offered unsolicited advice.

Elliot is rendered speechless, and he appears bewildered and a tad frightened of this version of our mother.

"The carousing must stop. Please, darling, step back and become more selective about your romantic encounters. I'd like you to find a woman of quality who is your match. And, yes, I'd eventually like some grandchildren, but I don't want you to have them for me. I want you to have them for your own sake, because I think they would add to your happiness. I fear your current habits will lead you to become a lonely old man. Have you heard me, Elliot?"

"Yes, Mom, I've heard you." Elliot can't look Mother in the eye.

It's quiet for a few beats, and my mind wanders. I stare off at a family portrait done when I was in middle school. Jesus, I see one reason why I was such an unhappy youth. I was a complete loser, skinny and gawky with braces.

I look back to the table and find my mother trying to catch my gaze, concern etched deep in her sweet face.

Oh, shit, now the attention is on me.

"Christian, I'm equally worried about you. Marriage and children aren't for everyone, and maybe those things aren't right for you. But, darling boy, your father and I would like to see you with a special friend, someone with whom you can share joys and sorrows, and possibly build a life. You're so driven and single-mindedly focused on your business that you've become increasingly more isolated over the years. Just as with Elliot, I fear loneliness for you. Please try to make a special friend. Darling, we don't care one whit whether you're straight, gay, or bisexual. We only want your happiness. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

Yep, they still believe I'm gay, and I suppose that's natural, due to the fact I've never dated or brought girls around. I do like keeping my secrets.

"Yes, Mother."

She looks as if she might cry. I have no idea what to say right now, but Elliot speaks up, saving us both.

"Mom, I know what you say has merit. Chrissy and I hereby pinkie promise to find a special friend for him, and from here on out, only nice girls for me."

Elliot comically bats his eyelashes at Mother, and holds up his right pinkie to me.

"C'mon, bro, let's do it. Let's pinkie swear, just like Mia makes us do."

I shake my head in mock irritation, attempt a big smile, and lock pinkies with Elliot. Surely we look ridiculous. Elliot then puts his fist out to me for a bump, and I join him.

Mother seems satisfied enough, because she gets out of her chair, titters, and places soft kisses on our foreheads, first mine, then Elliot's. She wipes tears from her cheeks and retreats to the kitchen to fetch strawberry shortcake.

Dad reaches for the mimosa carafe and refills his glass.

"You know, boys, I couldn't agree more with everything your mother just said. My life has not been defined by my law career, any more than your mother has been defined by medicine. Our lives are centered on our love for each other and you children. To have been privileged to adopt the three of you has been our greatest blessing."

Christ, now Dad's eyes are watering. Carrick Grey, litigator extraordinaire, who is always in control of his feelings, is about to shed tears. What the hell is happening? Is one of them sick or dying? What's up with all this ridiculous concern and emotion? It's quite worrisome.

Elliot seems to feel just as uncomfortable as I do. As if he's read my mind, he asks, "How's everyone's health? Is something going on? Mom isn't acting like herself."

"Son, your mother and I are both in good health, and your grandparents are holding their own. Your sister's been gone for several months, and while I miss her very much, I think your mother feels Mia's absence more acutely. When we moved into this house, we dreamed of not only raising you children here, but also eventually entertaining in-laws and grandchildren. I think this house is beginning to feel too big."

Shit. I don't like seeing my folks unhappy, especially my mother. I truly do want to please Mother. She is my savior, my angel.

Abraham Lincoln once said, "All that I am, I owe to my mother." Abe wasn't speaking of his birth mother. He was referring to his stepmother, the woman who adopted him to her heart and loved him unconditionally, just as Grace has done for me. Grace Trevelyan-Grey, my adoptive mother, isn't obliged to love me, but she does. All that I am, at least the few worthy parts, I owe to her.

Elliot attempts to put an end to this painful encounter with our parents.

"Dad, we appreciate you and Mom more than you can know. We'll do our best to make it to Montana next weekend, won't we, Chrissy?"

"Yes, of course."

After dessert and a bit of small talk about local politics, I'm ready to leave. Elliot and I say quick goodbyes to our parents, and we walk out together. He follows me to the R8.

"Bro, are you going straight home? How 'bout we go to the marina, maybe relax on the Grace?"

"I do have some work, but seeing as how it's a sunny day, I guess time on the water wouldn't hurt. I'll call Mac and he can get her ready. We can take her out for a bit. Follow me, and try to keep up in that monstrosity you drive."

I enjoy taking jabs at Elliot's truck. No way will he be able to keep up with my R8.

When we reach the Grace, Liam "Mac" McConnell, is in place and the boat is ready to launch. The Grace is a catamaran, designed and constructed by shipbuilders affiliated with my company. I hired Mac to maintain and crew the Grace.

As soon as we get on board, we go to work setting sail. There's no unnecessary communication. We aren't here to chatter. Elliot and I are here for the same reason, to clear our heads. Being out on the water always seems to help each of us.

Mac casts off, while Elliot mans the wheel. When we get out into the sound, Elliot cuts the engine, and Mac and I take on the sails.

It's a short sail. We're only out for a couple of hours, and when we return to the marina, we agree to stop off for a quick beer at SP's Place. It's next to the marina, and the only place in Seattle where we can get Adnams Explorer, a beer both of us enjoy.

As usual, Elliot is first to speak.

"Mom's words really hit me hard. You know I've probably fucked every available blonde in Seattle, right? Now it's gotten to the point where I'm trying to hook up with chicks I've already been with, but don't remember."

I'll be damned. I guess Elliot does have some self-awareness. He takes a long gulp of his beer and looks down at the wooden floor, unable to make eye contact.

"It's fucking embarrassing. Soon I'll be gray with a gut and sagging balls, still trolling bars for skanks. I'm already getting to be a joke. I heard a chick advise her friend against taking me home, referring to me as 'His Highness, King of the Fuck and Duck.' I'm goddamn thirty-one years old and I haven't had a relationship last more than a couple of weeks. Then Mom suggests I might be a sex addict. What the hell?"

I'm not used to having anyone, even my own brother, confess personal problems. I'm completely out of my element, so I do something I know how to do. I call over Dante, the bartender, and I order a bowl of seafood chowder for each of us.

"Do you want to change, El? That's what it sounds like. It seems as if you're unhappy and want something different from what you have."

I wish I knew how to play the part of supportive brother, but the best I can manage is a parody of the legion of psychiatrists I've seen over the years.

"Sure I do, but I'm not sure how. I think it's possible to meet a nice girl in a bar. Hell, a lot of the women I've fucked were probably really nice people, warm and compassionate. I wouldn't know, because I poked 'em and fled the scene."

I think of all the women I've fucked, and consider what Elliot has said. I have no idea if any of them have been people of good character. What of their hopes, dreams, and aspirations? None of that has ever been important. Beyond a scene, I speak to them as little as possible.

While Elliot seems to feel remorse over the lack of intimacy in his sexual encounters, I have no room for regret or hand-wringing. The contract absolves me of any guilt. Before I ever lay a finger on a woman, she knows there will be no relationship beyond the playroom. All sexual acts are consensual and the arrangements are mutually beneficial. I always make certain the women receive compensation for their time and trouble.

"Somehow I think the bar scene has led to a pattern of behavior…a pattern I need to break. What do you think, Chrissy? They say love is friendship caught fire, so maybe it's just a simple matter of changing my goal from fucking first to friendship first. If I can meet a really great girl, make friends first, then the fucking will come. Do you think that will work?"

"I don't understand a thing about any of that relationship crap. I'm clueless."

"Doesn't Flynn help you at all? What the hell are you paying him for?"

Ah, yes, Dr. John Flynn, my current psychiatrist. I don't want to get into any of my personal shit, and Elliot knows this. Seeing my agitation, my brother softens his tone.

"Your job at making Mom happy is a lot easier than mine. She wants to see me married with a family, but Mom just wants you to make a friend. That seems simple enough. Just make a friend. Bring the friend around Mom once in a while, and she'll be happy. None of us care about you being gay."

I stuff my mouth with some oyster crackers, trying to ignore my brother, but he can't stop yapping.

"Maybe I should see Flynn about sex addiction? Do you think he could help me?"

"Yes. Go see Flynn. Tell him to put your visits on my tab. Talk to him about all this shit, because I sure as hell have no idea what to tell you."

"You've hired all those blondes, bro. Got any you think I might be interested in? Maybe I need to do a walk through of all twenty floors."

"Damn it, El, don't even think about fucking my help. I don't need the headaches."

"Oh, so you're straight and you're trying to keep all the blondes for yourself. Try sharing, bro. I thought you were all about being charitable."

"You know I don't want to talk about this shit." I want to shut this down. Why can't El just let it be?

"Let's say for the sake of argument that you're straight. Hypothetically speaking, would your dream woman be a blonde? It would appear so, what with all those blondes scattered all over Grey House." Elliot is a dog with a bone.

"Hypothetically speaking, things are not always what they seem." No, my dream woman is brunette, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

"What are you saying? Are you straight? Or maybe you like both the cock and the pussy? Which is it? And I've just got to ask. Has your cherry been popped?"

Damn it all to hell! This is why I don't share a single nugget of my private life with anyone. If I were to share even one piece of information, it would just lead to more questions.

"Eat your chowder. I need to get home and do some work."

XXXXX

Rosalyn Bailey, my trusted number two, picks up on the third ring.

"And how was your weekend, Grey?"

"Fine. I need to let you know I'm considering taking a couple of days off. Do we have anything coming up that would preclude me from going to Montana this Thursday afternoon and returning the following Monday evening? Apparently Mother's Day is a week from today."

"No, nothing too important. Speaking of Mother's Day, the results of your semen analysis came back. You are quite the physical specimen." Ros belts out her deep throaty laugh, the result of too many cigarettes. "Gwen and I are anxious to get started. Last we talked about this, you expressed some reservations. You still having second thoughts?"

Ros and her wife, Gwen, approached me a couple of months ago about being a sperm donor. Gwen wants to carry the child and they'd like the child to resemble the two of them. Ros has red hair, a similar shade to my copper, and we're both tall and athletically built. I agreed to their proposition, which included no personal responsibility of any kind. Ros understands me well enough to know that I have no interest in parenting.

Ros and Gwen's doctors put me through a physical exam, blood work, and a screening for sexually transmitted diseases. The Seattle Sperm Bank assured and reassured me that the sample I submitted would be destroyed as soon as testing was completed. Apparently the results of the semen analysis and test thaw are now available. The semen analysis measures general fertility and the test thaw ascertains the percentage of sperm which die in the freezing process. Ros and Gwen want to freeze enough samples for several children.

"Yes, I need to think about this a bit more. Out of curiosity, what were the test results?"

Ros laughs again, even louder and more heartily than before.

"Per usual, you're an overachiever! Your little guys scored way over the top in every category, and the test thaw came back with great results. Normally, fifty to eighty percent of sperm die in the freezing process, but only thirty-nine percent of yours died. I'll give you a copy of the results tomorrow. It's a good thing you're gay, because if you fucked women, you'd have one knocked up by now."

Ros roars with more laughter.

"I'm so happy to amuse you. I'll give you my answer after I return from Montana. I need a few days. Does that work?"

"Sure. See you tomorrow."

After hanging up, I think back to some of my recent sessions with Flynn. We discussed me being a sperm donor for Ros and Gwen. Flynn and I went round and round about my fucked up nature. My birth mother was a crack whore, and I'll never know the identity of my birth father.

I'm sure Ros and Gwen will be exemplary parents, but there's that age old argument of nature versus nurture.

I'm reluctant to pass off my questionable DNA to Ros and Gwen, and beyond that, it disturbs me to think I would have contact with their child. My child. Contact would be unavoidable. Ros and Gwen live in the building across the street from me, and I work closely with Ros.

Would I tell my family about the child, and if so, what would I say? My instincts tell me they would want a relationship. If I had offspring, even as a sperm donor, I believe my mother and Mia would go nuts trying to have some kind of contact.

I think about my relationship with my adoptive parents. They took on a huge responsibility when they adopted me. I didn't speak, couldn't be touched, had night terrors and food issues. How have they endured?

It all seemed so simple when Ros and Gwen first proposed the artificial insemination, but nagging doubts keep popping up. I've got to work through all of it soon and make a decision, so Ros and Gwen can move forward.

I recall Mother's outburst today, and her worry that Elliot and I will age out as lonely, pathetic old men. I guess all parents worry about their children. I have enough shit to worry about. I certainly don't need to add a child to the list.

Have my siblings and I disappointed our parents? Certainly I have, especially with dropping out of Harvard. Dad blew a gasket over that. Even becoming a billionaire eleven times over has not diminished Dad's fury over Harvard. Our relationship has been fractious ever since. I don't think Dad will ever be proud of me, and that saddens me, because deep down I want to please him.

If my parents understood the reality behind my lack of public female companionship, they'd be even more disappointed in me.

For six years, beginning from the age of fifteen, I was a submissive, and Mother's friend, Elena Lincoln, was my Domme. Our sexual relationship ended when I turned 21. Elena's husband, John, came home early from a business trip and found a naked Elena flogging a very naked me in their basement. The result was John immediately filing for divorce.

I felt my relationship with Elena had already run its course, and I wanted to transition to the role of Dominant. Despite her initial reluctance, Elena assisted me with my transition, training me and matching me with experienced partners. Since the age of twenty-one I have enjoyed a parade of pale, slim, brunette submissives.

No, my parents would never be able to understand and accept my sexual activities. To say they would be disappointed is a gross understatement. If Mother is disappointed in Elliot's womanizing ways, she would completely lose her shit over my collection of whips and manacles. In comparison to my issues, Elliot's seem almost inconsequential.

Until brunch this morning, I had never considered that my parents would be the least bit disappointed in anything Elliot could do.

After graduating from UCLA, Elliot built up his own construction company. With my investment and Elliot's brilliant management, Grey Construction shows great growth each year. Elliot continues to secure large projects throughout the Pacific Northwest. His personal net worth is tens of millions of dollars, and in no time, I'm sure he will surpass the hundred million mark.

We're all very proud of Elliot. He's an affectionate extrovert, and has a large circle of friends. Elliot is easy to love.

If Elliot is easy to love, Mia is even easier. My baby sister has an innate sweetness that brings out the protective side of me.

Mia joined our family as a six-month old infant. From the very first, she has brought nothing but joy. I was mute for the first two years of my life as a Grey, but the strong connection I felt for Mia prompted me to begin speaking again. My first word as a Grey was Mia's name.

She had academic difficulties in school, and college didn't seem a viable option for her. A lack of education has limited her career possibilities, but she seems to have found her niche with cooking.

Mia is tall and lovely, with raven locks and olive skin. She possesses an impeccable sense of style, turning heads wherever she goes. My baby sister draws others to her with her warm, outgoing personality. Like Elliot, she has many friends.

I wish I could be normal like my siblings.

I wish I could be touched. I wish I had friends. I wish I didn't have nightmares every night. I wish I could make easy conversation. I wish I could make my family proud.

I wish I could sleep.

I wish…

With all the crap floating around in my head, I don't even bother with bed, moving straight to my piano instead.

I don't know how my sleepless night will end, but tonight it begins with _Piano Concerto No. 21 in C Major_.


	2. You've Got a Friend

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 2**

 **You've Got a Friend**

 **Monday, May 2, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

My plastic WalMart bag is heavy with sandwiches, fruit, and water. It's a relief to put it down on the picnic table. Morning classes are over and it's a few minutes past noon. I can relax and clear my head as I wait for my friend, José. I've been restless and out of sorts the past couple of weeks, and the warmth of the sun on my shoulders feels comforting.

I'm not the only one enjoying this fine spring day. As I survey the area, a couple catches my eye. They are spread out on a quilt, prone, and they are kissing. The boy is slender with dark hair and the girl is a chunky blonde with bright pink streaks in her hair. They break away from their kiss to smile at one another. Are they in love? I've often wondered what that feels like.

Love.

My chest feels tight. Seeking relief from my discomfort, I stretch my arms and roll my neck, then pop open a water bottle for some refreshment. I look back at the boy, propped on one elbow, as he pushes hair from the girl's face and plants a kiss on her chin. The girl laughs. The boy leans down to take the girl in his arms. It's a sweet and tender embrace.

Watching these two, one would conclude that it must be wonderful to have a boyfriend. I have book boyfriends, with Mr. Rochester at the top of the list. Love in books, songs, and movies always looks great, but navigating it in real life must be incredibly painful. I consider all the times I've held Kate as she cried over some piece of shit guy. And then there's my mother's dubious romantic history. Four husbands in, and she still hasn't figured it out.

I have a good life. I enjoy a close, loving bond with my dad, and an amicable relationship with my mom. I couldn't have better friends than Kate and José. Kate's family treats me like one of their own, her parents insisting that I call them Mama and Papa K. José's dad is like an uncle to me. For the past four years I have worked at Clayton's hardware and have delighted in warm relationships with my employers and customers. In a few short weeks, I will graduate summa cum laude with an English degree and move to Seattle with Kate.

Yes, I have a good life.

My best friend and roommate, Kate Kavanagh, is brilliant. But perhaps she is wrong about one thing. Kate has always said I lack the "need a boyfriend" gene. I actually like the idea of having a boyfriend. In abstract, the concept is appealing.

There's just one thing. I haven't found a male worthy of the title.

There are plenty of likeable men. Hell, I'm sitting here waiting for a very nice, very handsome young man right now. José Rodriguez is a doll, but my feelings for him extend only as far as friendship. There is no spark. No chemistry. No desire.

Kate sometimes tells me about her sexy dreams. I've never had dreams like those, nor have I ever felt a sexual attraction for any person, man or woman.

I don't think I'm a lesbian, because I sometimes wake with lovely dreams of being married to a man. In the dreams, I can't make out his features, but he's tall, well-built, and has a deep voice. He stands in front of the sun and is bathed in bright light. He tells me he's happy that I am his wife. I tell him I'm happy that he is my husband. I hear the voices of children and the sound of waves lapping at the shoreline.

The thought crosses my mind, and not for the first time, that perhaps I'm asexual. It's a topic I occasionally ponder and fret over. My worries led me to visit the campus mental health clinic, where I spoke to a counselor about my lack of sexual desire.

The counselor was a middle-aged woman named Jane, who actually seemed bored with my concerns. She told me that asexuality isn't rare, and researchers believe approximately 1 out of 100 of us are asexual. Jane suggested I could just be a late bloomer, sexually speaking, or perhaps have some kind of hormone imbalance. Then she theorized I could be afflicted with repressed trauma, a thought which shook me up a bit.

"Or," Jane said, "Perhaps what you suspect is true. Perhaps you are asexual, which is just a different way of being. Nothing to be alarmed about really. Maybe you are just different."

I don't want to be different.

I don't want to miss out on something special.

I want to be normal _._

I want to be like Kate and Becca and all the other girls my age. Obviously sex must be something great, because as soon as the wine bottle comes out, it's the primary topic of conversation.

Kate is always trying to fix me up with guys, telling me I need to close my eyes, hold my nose, and jump into the dating pool. Maybe it's time to step out of my comfort zone.

"Ana!" I snap back into the present, and see José striding toward me. "Hey, sorry I'm running late. Levi's car crapped out on him, and he needed a ride to work. What are we eating today?"

I dig into the bag and produce the peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches, one for me and two for José. There's an apple and water bottle for each of us, as well as a clump of grapes for us to share. I take another swig of my water. All this deep thought has made me thirsty.

"Ah, my favorite. Peanut butter and jelly," José jokes.

I always bring PBJ sandwiches. It's something special I share only with José.

"You haven't said a word, Ana. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong exactly. Just thinking about the future. You know, the move to Seattle, trying to find a job there. Figuring out how to be an adult. You'll be faced with the same thing when you graduate next year."

José started college with Kate and me, but because he is receiving dual degrees in Engineering and Art, he'll graduate a year behind us.

"I guess so…you know I'm gonna miss you, Ana. I'll miss our check-ins and meet-ups. You're my favorite person to hang out with, but please don't tell Levi or Travis. I don't want the hot bromances to end."

We laugh over the silly joke and José gives me a long, sweet smile. His white, perfectly even teeth stand out against his caramel complexion.

"The missing goes both ways, Rodriguez. You're welcome to visit Seattle any time. You always have a place to stay. Just in case I've never said it, you've been a most excellent friend to me." José looks straight ahead, and turns as if he wants to say something, but then thinks better of it. "What does your week look like? Anything interesting on your horizon?"

José turns to me and beams, radiating pride.

"As a matter of fact, I was just informed that I will have a solo show at Portland Place. It's next month. It would mean the world to me if you and Kate could come to the opening night reception. That's June tenth, a Friday, from seven 'til ten. I'll text you all the deets, so you can put it on your calendar."

"Holy shit, José, that's huge. Congratulations! Of course, I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it for the world. And I'll be sure to tell Kate about it." I pull José in close for a hug, and as we break away, I kiss him on the right cheek. "I'm so proud of you, sweetie. Your dreams are coming true. Not everyone can say that."

"Thanks, Ana. I appreciate your confidence in me. You've always been so encouraging, and it means a lot. I think..." José doesn't finish what he wants to say. He seems a bit off, nervous and stiff.

"You think what?"

"It's nothing."

"Well, we've always been in each other's corner. You're coming to graduation, aren't you? Each grad gets four tickets, and with Dad, Mom, and Bob, that leaves an extra ticket. There's nobody I'd rather give the ticket to than you. Nothing big planned. An early dinner with the five of us and the Kavanaghs. Think you can make it?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it. Got to get photos of you and Kate in cap and gown. And let's not forget those cords you'll be sporting. Kate being student commencement speaker is a huge deal, so I need to get photos of that, too, though I'm sure Kate has Levi lined up for some shots. I'll ask him about it." Levi wears many hats. He is José's roommate, principal photographer for the university newspaper, and also serves as Kate's occasional fuck buddy.

We eat our lunch in silence, with only the sounds of light traffic in the background. From the corner of my eye, I see movement. My lovebirds rise to depart, shake out the quilt, and each taking an end, they fold the quilt into a neat rectangle. They share a passionate kiss and gather the rest of their things.

I send up a silent prayer, asking that these two strangers always feel as they do today. If I can't have a love connection, then perhaps they can. I look over at José. He's been watching me, as I watch the couple.

As my loved-up duo strolls out of sight, I remember that I have news of my own to share.

"Oh, almost forgot to tell you! I have two interviews on Thursday, one with Seattle Independent Publishing and the other with Puget Press. Both interviews are for an assistant editor position."

"That's awesome. Two in one day...how's that gonna work? What are the interview times?"

"The first is at 10 am and the second is at 3 pm. With it being a three-and-a-half-hour drive to Seattle, Kate and I will have to leave here at 6 am to insure enough time to make it to the interview. We're taking her car, since Wanda can't make it past 55 miles per hour."

José and I both giggle over my car's lack of speed. Wanda, a Volkswagen Beetle, was once his mother's car. After Mrs. Rodriguez died, my stepfather, Ray, bought the car from Mr. Rodriguez, who is a trusted friend and old army buddy.

I take another swig of water, and continue the explanation of the weekend plans Kate and I have made.

"It's Mother's Day weekend, and Kate talked me into taking time off from work to spend a long weekend in Redmond. It's a surprise for Mama K. We'll stay through Monday, because that afternoon Kate has to interview some businessman who has ties to the university. It's an interview for the special graduation edition."

"So I won't see you again until next week sometime? I'll still be doing my daily text-check."

Freshman year José made a promise to my dad to keep a watchful eye over me, so he texts me each day to check in with me. It's been a sweet and enjoyable part of our friendship for the last four years.

"No, unless you come over before Thursday, you won't see me until next week. We can meet again for lunch a week from tomorrow. Tuesday, the 10th? That's the day after we get back from Seattle. Same time and place. Okay by you?"

"Sure, but I'll miss you, Ana. In four years, we've rarely been apart for as long as a week." José reaches over and brushes wind-blown hair from my face. His voice turns soft and husky. "I don't know how I'll get along without you, after you move to Seattle."

Things suddenly take a strange twist. José leans in and tries to kiss me on the mouth. I turn my head just in time, and his lips land on my right cheek, just below my eye.

"José!" What the hell is he thinking? I'm stunned, and if I'm honest, I'm angry.

"Ana, don't you want me? I love you, and I've wanted to kiss you for a long time now. You're so beautiful, and I want to be with you."

What the eff? I don't want to hurt him, but I can't encourage his feelings.

"José, you're important to me. I cherish our friendship, and crossing boundaries into some kind of romantic relationship would just screw everything up. You're like a brother to me. I need you that way, and I can't conceive of any other kind of relationship."

"Shit, Ana. Don't you feel it? I wish you could see how good we'd be together. This fucking friend zone hurts."

José wraps his arms around me tightly and presses himself against me. It feels wrong, creepy, and weird. I push back with as much force as I can muster, and break the embrace.

"What the hell? If you act like this, I can't be around you!"

"I'm sorry. I just don't understand how you can't feel what we have." José's voice cracks and his shoulders sag. I've never seen my friend like this.

"What we have is friendship."

"Can't you feel it?"

"No, I can't feel it. It's not you. You're smart, handsome, and so much fun. It's not you. I'm just not capable of the feelings you need from me. I've never had romantic feelings for anyone. You're my friend. I hate the idea of hurting your feelings, but I can't love you beyond friendship."

"Can we talk about this when you get back from Seattle?" José's voice sounds hopeful.

It's best to shut this down, if I can.

"I don't know if there's anything more to say, but sure, if you need to talk about it again, we can do that. I do love you, José, please remember that. I just can't be in love with you. I can't be what you want."

"I'm trying to understand. I can't help it, but I'm in love with you."

"Well, snap out of it, and give me my friend back. I need to get going now. I'll see you next week."

"Shit. I shouldn't have told you how I feel. Please stay safe in Seattle. And for the love of God, don't let Kate talk you into anything crazy."

"As if! You know I can handle Kate!"

With a quick hug and goodbye, I pile into Wanda and head off to work a few hours at Clayton's Hardware. Business is brisk for a Monday afternoon and the hours pass quickly.

I'm home by 8 pm, and I find Kate at the dining table toiling away on her laptop. My kick ass friend is well known across campus, and not just because of her considerable beauty. She's the executive editor of the VanCougar, our university newspaper, and while she receives a stipend for this, she puts in way more hours than required. I'm so proud of Kate's work ethic and high standards.

During sophomore year, Kate was elected to the student senate, and in junior year was elected president of the student body, all while serving as the VanCougar sports editor. Kate will also graduate summa cum laude with a 3.95 average. Her high grades combined with her extracurricular activities have led her to being chosen as the student commencement speaker.

Above all, Kate is a wonderful human being, an honest, loyal and faithful friend. She is also bold and a bit brash. She works hard and plays hard. It's all part of the Kate Kavanagh charm.

"Hey, Bug, what's up?"

"Just got back from hangin' with Becca. Now I've got to finish up a paper."

"How is Becca?" Becca graduates from Portland State next week. She and Kate grew up together. I like Becca, but she's quite the wild child. She makes Kate look like a nun.

"Becca's great. She's got her last final on Wednesday, so she's about to move into heavy duty party mode."

"You eat yet?"

"No. Not super hungry, but if you're fixing something, I guess I could eat."

Kate doesn't like to pull kitchen duty, but I enjoy it. Just one of the things which makes us compatible as besties and roomies.

As I pull together soup and salad for our dinner, I begin to think back on my day. I need Kate right now. She's the only person who can make me feel better about my picnic with José.

"Katie Bug, could you come talk to me. I really, really need you."

"What's wrong? Tell me." Kate comes quickly to my side, ready to listen.

"Well, José and I had one of our picnics today, and things got weird. He told me he loves me and he tried to kiss me on the mouth."

"Oh, shit, I knew it! He's been making puppy dog eyes for months now. I didn't want to say anything to you, in case I was wrong. A couple of weeks ago, Becca and I went drinking with José, Levi, and Travis, and I called José out on it. I told him to back off and think twice before messing up a perfectly good friendship. He's been overly solicitous and protective of you, and I know you've taken no notice of it. What did you say when he tried to kiss you?"

"Basically what you just said, that I'm not interested in him romantically, and don't want to ruin our friendship. He acted down in the dumps because I'll be out of town for the next week. I think our upcoming move is excellent timing. It will give us a break from one another. He'll see we're just friends."

"You and I both need to get the hell away from this campus and join the real world. I can't wait for a new start. You and me and a whole new population of men for us to sample." Kate winks and tosses one hip to the side, making me giggle.

"About that, Kate, I've been thinking I might take you up on your offer. The one to fix me up with some guys. You know, after we move to Seattle. Just casual dates with guys who aren't going to expect much. And when I say much, I mean sex."

In a flash, Kate grabs me and starts jumping up and down. "Holy shit! Are you serious? You just made my week! What made you come around? What's going on, Ana?"

"I don't know. I've been thinking about it, and I'd like to find a boy…no, a man, not a boy, to spend time with. You know I've never dated. I just don't know where to start. Don't laugh, but I think I'm abnormal, sexually abnormal. I like the idea of dating, maybe having a boyfriend, but I think I may be…I may be asexual."

I have rendered Kate speechless. She steps back, looks at me wide-eyed, and shakes her head. Then she begins laughing, louder and louder, until she's holding her sides. The laughter is mixed with tears and now Kate is a goner. She can't stop laughing and crying.

"Kate! I told you not to laugh at me! I'm seriously going through some angsty stuff at the moment, and I really don't appreciate you laughing."

"I am not laughing at you, Ana. I am laughing at the idea that you could be asexual! Do you not have any idea how hot you are? You radiate sexuality and you aren't even aware of it. Guys have no idea how to approach you, because you are a conundrum to them. You're sweet, kind, nurturing, and give off a girl next door vibe, but then you rock that killer bod and natural beauty. When you figure all this out, you are going to rule the world!"

"You say that, Kate, but I certainly don't feel sexy. And I have never been attracted to anyone, not enough to want to give myself over to someone sexually. I don't even have fantasies or sexual dreams. What is wrong with me? I want to experience all the normal feelings that other girls do."

"You will, Ana. You'll meet someone. A few minutes ago, you said you wanted to meet a man, not a boy, and part of the problem has been that we're surrounded by boys. Exhibit A is José. José is not ready for prime time. Sweetie, I have slept with any unattached guy on this campus who is worth a shit, and trust me when I say the list of contenders is short. The pickings are quite slim. On any college campus, even the best of the best can be dickless wonders. When we get to Seattle, we're going to meet real men. Grown up men who have challenging jobs, have had their hearts broken a time or two, and are battle tested. It's onward and upward, babe, and we aren't going to settle for anything but quality. Trust me."

Kate pulls me into her arms for a hug, and her little speech has perked my spirits.

"Thanks for cheering me up. You always make me feel better. I really am looking forward to our weekend in Seattle. The stress is beginning to get to me. Thesis presentations, finals, finding a job in Seattle, starting a new life…argh! The transition to adulthood is daunting."

"It'll come together. You know you don't need to worry about rent or utilities. Dad wanted me to make that clear to you. You are, after all, the fifth Kavanagh. And about our trip this weekend, I got a call today from Mr. Grey's personal assistant. Grey had to reschedule the interview and move it from Monday afternoon to Thursday morning. His PA said a family thing came up. So while you are in your morning interview on Thursday, I'll be interviewing Mr. Grey."

"Should we return on Sunday night instead of Monday night? Then we wouldn't miss our Monday classes. Don't roll your eyes. You hate missing class as much as I do."

"I'm easing up on myself, and you should too. C'mon, Ana, we work hard, and missing a couple of classes won't hurt our grades. We're the English department's star students. Let's have fun. We can find plenty to do with our free time on Monday. I can take you around Pike Place and show you our apartment and new neighborhood."

And with that, we relax, enjoying our light dinner, talking, dreaming, and planning our new lives as two ambitious young women taking on Seattle.


	3. Meet Cute

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Meet Cute**

 **Thursday, May 5, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

As we travel north on I-5, the Seattle skyline emerges, holding the promise of fresh adventures. By the end of this month, Kate and I will be moved into the Pike Place condo gifted to her by her parents, and we will embark on a new life.

Today I interview at two publishing houses. Seattle Independent Publishing is at 10 am and Puget Press is at 3 pm.

Kate interviews Mr. Grey at 11 am, and it will be brief, as he is only allowing her twenty minutes for the interview and a few quick photos. We plan to meet up in the Grey House lobby after our interviews. There are several restaurants in the area, and we can't decide where to go.

"Bug, feeling adventurous? How 'bout this Ethiopian place?"

I'm using Kate's iPhone to research eateries.

"What do they eat in Ethiopia?"

"No idea. I don't recognize anything on the menu, but the prices are right."

"I'm game, if you are."

"Settled. Ethiopian...About Mr. Grey...Are you nervous? From what you've told me about Grey, he sounds odd."

"No, not nervous. Dad told me Grey is very polite, but not warm or engaging. It fascinates me that he has never, and I mean never, ever been seen socially with any woman outside his family. And he is very private about his comings and goings. That's why I'd like to come right out with it and ask about his sexual orientation."

"Kate! You can't do that. That's nobody's business but his!"

"Of course, you're right, and I won't ask, but I'll still wonder. Maybe he's not gay. Perhaps Grey's into some kink, you know, maybe his tastes run to the exotic. What do you suppose? Golden showers? Foot fetish? Maybe he's a naturist? I bet he looks great naked."

"He's old, Kate. Who wants to look at a naked old man?"

"A naked old woman?" Kate giggles at her little joke. "And Grey isn't old. I've fucked guys who are way older. Remember that huge wedding last summer? In Snoqualmie? Mom and I were staying at Salish Lodge. I fucked a very hot old guy in his '50s."

"Katherine Agnes Kavanagh! You never told me about him!"

"Didn't I? Well, he may have looked like George Clooney, but he really wasn't worth talking about. He was a minute man. And he turned out to be such a creep. It was that guy who kept calling and harassing me all summer. Still don't know how he got my cell number. I sure didn't give it to him."

"I remember all that, but I imagined your stalker was our age. Do Mama and Papa K know?"

"Sweet lord, no! They'd kill John Lincoln, the pathetic geezer. Anyhoo, back to Grey. There's something hinky about him. Maybe he's a cross-dresser. Or dresses up like a baby and hires a wet nurse."

Just like Kate's mind to go there, and as always, I find it very entertaining.

"You have boundless curiosity and you're always considering the possibilities. You'll make one hell of a reporter."

"Lord, I hope so. Since Ethan wants nothing to do with the family business, it falls to me to pick up the mantle. First, I have to learn media from the ground up. Today is just another small step in my professional development. Grey rarely grants interviews, so this is quite the coup."

Papa Kavanagh is the king of media in the Pacific Northwest, and Kate has big shoes to fill. Her dad started his business in the mid '80s. He snapped up one tiny Seattle AM station at a bargain basement price, and turned it into 24/7 talk radio, which started a national trend. Papa K bought more radio stations, then television stations, and branched into cable TV and internet. Along the way he purchased a few regional magazines and newspapers, and slowly, but surely, an empire was built.

"Okay, babe, this is you. Will you be okay, walking to meet me after your interview? SIP isn't too terribly far from Grey House, though I know you aren't accustomed to tackling sidewalks in four inch heels. By the way, props for not falling yet this morning. My little girl is growing up."

"Well, the day is young. I feel like I'm impersonating a grown-up in these shoes."

Kate giggles and looks me over, proud of her handiwork and the end product. I'm wearing dark brown Louboutin pumps and carrying a brown leather satchel. Kate chose a plum dress for me, which accentuates my curves, but looks very professional. The dress is knee length and has a v-neck with just the barest hint of cleavage. There's a large industrial brass zipper running the entire length of the back, from the neckline down to the hem.

If anyone were to pull the zipper, I'd be left in my underwear. Kate says the zipper is just suggestive enough to ramp up the sex appeal without being skanky. Kate is an expert at being sexually alluring, but never looking like a trollop. She made me wear my best lingerie, because Kate insists confidence begins with pretty undergarments.

Kate is a tiny bit curvier than I am, but we are basically the same size, even down to our shoes, so we can wear each other's clothes. Not that I have anything anyone would want to borrow, but Kate has a beautiful wardrobe, and is very generous with her things.

"Seriously, Steele. Be careful in those heels. We don't have time for an emergency room visit."

"I'll do my best. Thank you for lending me these clothes and styling me up."

"You look fabulous. Keep that dress. It's perfect on you. I'll meet you in the lobby of Grey House. Love you, sweetie." My friend's green eyes gleam with affection and good humor.

"Love you, too, Bug, and good luck. Grey will turn from gay to straight when he lays eyes on you." I give Kate a quick hug, careful not to muss her shiny curls. Her red skater dress and nude Louboutins suit her perfectly.

I'm ten minutes early, but the friendly receptionist, Claire, tells me Elizabeth Morgan, the personnel director, is ready for me. Claire offers me water, which I decline out of fear of spilling it on myself. She takes me to a conference room, where I'm promptly met by Ms. Morgan and Mr. Jerry Roach, the owner.

Ms. Morgan and Mr. Roach are very welcoming and kind.

Mr. Roach inquires about my coursework, my reading habits, and asks if I've read any of Leonard Tate's works. Mr. Tate is SIP's best known and most profitable author, and aware I might be asked about him, I did read his latest novel, _The Trials of a Hero_. I didn't care much for the book, but I try to be enthusiastic, pointing out the stellar character development, and ignoring the weak plot structure.

Ms. Morgan reviews the job description and gives me an opportunity to explain how I feel my skills match their needs.

The interview only takes about twenty minutes. Is that a bad sign? If they were interested, wouldn't they want to know more about me? As we get up to say our good-byes, Ms. Morgan offers a tour of the offices, and she spends another ten minutes showing me around.

I would dearly love to work at SIP, as they are a small organization, specializing in books about the Pacific Northwest and authors from the region. Ms. Morgan bestows congratulations on my newly minted English degree, telling me they probably won't make a hiring decision for at least another couple of weeks.

Feeling as satisfied as possible about the SIP interview, I make my way down Third Avenue, heading to meet Kate at Grey House. Her interview isn't until 11, and it is now 10:35. Kate was right about Grey House not being far from SIP. Even in these cruel shoes, I make it to the door of the building well before 11.

Just as I think I've successfully made it inside, I trip coming through the revolving door, landing inside the lobby on all fours.

"Well, this is a sight to behold. As much as I'm enjoying the view right now, we need to get you up off the floor."

I raise my head and discover a very good looking man in steel toe work boots, jeans, flannel shirt, and Carhartt jacket. He's dressed much like my carpenter stepdad. He's tall and muscular with shoulders that seem a yard wide. His curly, ash blond hair is tousled, and he has the most infectious smile and twinkling blue eyes.

I immediately feel at ease with the handsome stranger. He reminds me of the tradesmen I wait on at Clayton's Hardware. His rough hands move to my shoulders and he gently guides me upright.

"Are you okay?"

"None the worse for wear. Only a small bruise to my pride. Thank you for the assistance."

I feel a bit shy, but give him my most appreciative smile. I scan the lobby. The blonde receptionist is watching and listening to our exchange. Another blonde walks past and eyes me suspiciously, while skimming her eyes longingly over my rescuer.

"You're welcome. Do you work here? Or just here for a meeting?"

"Neither actually. My best friend, Kate, is interviewing the owner of this place, and I'm waiting for her to finish. We're roommates and drove into town together. I just finished a job interview a few blocks from here. My name is Ana."

I offer a handshake and it's enthusiastically accepted.

"Nice to meet you, Ana. I'm Elliot, and I'm here to see my brother, hoping he can do lunch. Do you know the name of the man Kate is interviewing?"

"Someone named Grey. He named the business and building after himself. No shortage of self-esteem, I imagine. Does your brother work for Mr. Grey?"

Elliot laughs and leans down, very close to my face, speaking just above a whisper. "Ana, tell me, is Kate as beautiful as you are?" This man really knows how to flirt.

I blush at the thought that this attractive, virile stranger would call me beautiful, and I immediately feel the need to deflect attention from myself.

"Are you kidding? Kate is gorgeous! Men literally drop at her feet." Elliot raises his eyebrows skeptically. "You don't believe me? Here. Look. I have photos on my phone. She's the strawberry blonde."

I pull out my phone and start scrolling through pictures, with Elliot looking over my shoulder.

I purse my lips and shoot Elliot an I-told-you-so look.

Elliot's eyes widen at the images of Kate, and he slowly blows air through his teeth.

"Wow! Just wow! You weren't kidding. She's a goddess. Could you hook me up with an introduction?"

"I guess so." Elliot is so personable and friendly. There couldn't be any harm in an introduction. Right?

Actually Kate and Elliot would look really hot together. They're both fair with perfect teeth and even features. Kate is small, delicate, with the grace of a ballerina. Elliot is rugged, as sturdy as a Viking warrior. They would make the most gorgeous babies.

Elliot reaches for my phone, and I let him have it. He carefully studies the photos of Kate. He stops scrolling when he sees a photo of Kate and me together in bikinis. Jose took the photo during a weekend we all spent at the Oregon coast last summer. Elliot looks at me, then back at the photo, rocking back and forth on his heels, as if trying to work something out.

"Ana, I know we just met, but I'm serious about wanting an introduction to your friend. I have an idea. Do you think you and Kate might be willing to go to lunch today with me and my brother?"

"I don't know, Elliot…"

What the hell is wrong with me? Kate would be more than okay with a spontaneous group lunch date. Kate knows how to seize the moment. I'm being a complete stick-in-the-mud.

"If it will make you feel more comfortable, our baby sister, Mia, will be joining us. She just flew in from Paris last night."

How can I say no to that?

"Okay, sure. Why not? That sounds great. Do you want to get your brother and meet up with us here in the lobby?"

"No, let's go to my brother's office now. We'll find Kate."

Elliot gently takes my arm to lead me away, but I stop him.

"How will we find Kate? This building is huge and I don't want to miss her. Plus, weren't we supposed to sign in and get badges? Kate told me Grey is an obsessed jackass when it comes to security. There were all kinds of hoops Kate had to jump through for this interview and her dad is a business associate of Grey's. I'm nobody, and I really don't want to get kicked out of the building."

Elliot throws his head back and laughs.

"Obsessed jackass? Ana Banana! You are making my day, sweetheart! I know my way around this place and I promise we're not going to be tossed out. C'mon, doll, stick with me."

Elliot brims with confidence. Doesn't he worry about causing problems in his brother's workplace?

"Are you sure? I got the impression from Kate that this Grey fellow is another Howard Hughes. Brilliant, paranoid, powerful, reclusive. I don't want to cause trouble for Kate by circumventing security."

"I promise. There won't be a speck of trouble." Elliot chuckles and takes my arm. "C'mon, we're headed to my brother's office on the twentieth floor. Now tell me more about you and Kate. You said Kate's dad knows Grey. Who is Kate's dad?"

That's sort of personal, and I pride myself on being discreet. I've already said too much, but somehow I trust Elliot.

"Kate is Katherine Kavanagh, daughter of Eamon Kavanagh, who owns Kavanagh Media. Kavanagh Media does business with GEH."

"I see. I've also done business with Eamon Kavanagh. I'm a general contractor, and my company just completed the new Kavanagh Media headquarters building in Redmond."

"So you know Papa K?"

"Eamon Kavanagh? I've met him, but I primarily interfaced with his VP of Corporate Development."

"I thought maybe you were in construction. I work in a hardware store so I see a lot of Carhartt and steel-toe boots."

"Yes, it's a uniform of sorts, isn't it?" Elliot and I share a giggle. "You and Kate are roommates. Where do you live?"

On the way up to his brother's office, the elevator makes several stops. Folks seem to recognize Elliot, and each person smiles, nods, or offers some kind of friendly greeting. The ride is long enough for me to briefly hit the high points. I tell Elliot about WSU-Vancouver, graduation, my publishing interviews, and our upcoming move to Seattle. Elliot appears pleased to learn of our upcoming move to Seattle.

I decide to brag about Kate. I want Elliot to know what a catch she is.

"Kate's not just a pretty face. She has many accomplishments. In fact, out of the entire student body, Kate was selected graduation speaker. She already has a job lined up with the Seattle Times."

"I'm not usually interested in a woman's academic and professional accomplishments, but I'm digging Kate. She sounds exactly like the kind of girl you can take home to mother."

"What kind of accomplishments are you usually interested in?"

"Please don't be offended, Ana, but in the past I've always chosen the…um…athletic type, you know, the mattress Olympian type of girl." Elliot winks and laughs nervously.

"Mattress Olympian?" What on earth is this man talking about?

Elliot raises his eyebrows and cocks his head. "You know…a little yabba dabba do?"

"Oh! Well, you've met your match with Kate. She'll know exactly how to handle you."

"Really? I like the sound of that." Elliot arches a brow in amusement and intrigue. "Tell me more."

"That didn't come out the way I intended. What I mean to convey is that Kate knows who she is and what she wants. She won't put up with any foolishness from a man."

"Kate sounds perfect. I'm trying to change my ways, Ana, so don't worry about your friend. I really am a gentleman and I'd never hurt her. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that." I fix my sternest gaze on Elliot, letting him know when it comes to my friend, I mean business.

"How old is Kate?"

"Just turned twenty-two." Elliot's eyebrows go up at my answer. Elliot looks a few years older. Does he consider Kate too young?

"And you?"

"Twenty-one."

"Hmm. The same age as my sister, Mia. Do either of you have boyfriends?"

"You get right to the point, Elliot. No, neither of us has boyfriends. No time for any of that. Both of us are way too busy with work and school."

Crap. What if Elliot is married? I need to ask.

"May I assume from your interest in Kate...you're not married or otherwise entangled?"

"Entangled?" Elliot shakes his head. "That's an old-fashioned sounding expression, like something my brother might use. You two might just hit it off. No, I've never been married or engaged. And there's no girlfriend."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-one."

"I see." He's almost ten years older than Kate, but I don't think she would consider that an impediment to dating.

"Ana, in a few minutes you'll meet my little brother. Like me, he's never been married or engaged. And he's never had a girlfriend. Hell, I don't think he's ever been on a date."

Never had a girlfriend? No dating? Maybe he's gay. Or shy. Or weird. Maybe his brother is exactly like me and just hasn't found the right person. I haven't met Elliot's brother yet, and I already feel empathy for him.

"Here we are, Banana."

The elevator pings and we've arrived at the twentieth floor. The first floor lobby was tastefully decorated in minimalist modern style, and that same decor continues here in the stratosphere. There are floor-to-ceiling windows behind us, and the view of Seattle is breathtaking. The contemporary paintings and photography are impressive. I think of José and how much he would enjoy viewing this collection.

Elliot leads the way to a reception area, where yet another immaculately groomed blonde stands ready to assist us. Not only does this Grey fellow have a thing about security, but he seems to have a preference for blondes. Isn't that discriminatory? How does Grey get away with that?

Elliot gives Blondie a quick wink. "Hi, Andrea, I hope you've missed me as much I've missed you."

Jeez, flirt much? The elegant blonde laughs and rolls her eyes. She's got Elliot's number.

"What can I do for you today, Elliot?"

Elliot takes my hand and pulls me forward.

"Andrea Parker, I'd like you to meet my friend, Ana. Ana, this beautiful woman is the one who actually runs GEH. Ana and I are here to see my brother. Is he still interviewing with the lovely Kate Kavanagh?"

What? Oh, dear God in heaven. I gape at Elliot in complete embarrassment. I can feel my face flush. Elliot let me go on and on about his 'jackass' brother, who turns out to be Kate's CEO, Mr. Grey! Elliot is greatly amused and quite pleased with himself.

Andrea responds coolly, "Yes, Mr. Grey is still being interviewed by Miss Kavanagh."

"Thanks. Ana and I will show ourselves in."

We only have to walk about twenty feet to reach tall double doors. This must be Grey's office. Feeling the sting of shame and embarrassment, I need to apologize before we enter. Just as Elliot is about to push the doors open, I grab his arm.

"So you're Elliot Grey? My name is Anastasia Steele, but all my friends call me Ana. Please, before we go in, I'd like to apologize for the unflattering remarks about your brother. And worst of all, I've never met him. I drew conclusions about him based on hearsay. Please accept my apology."

"I accept your apology, Ana. I get a sweet vibe from you. Please promise to have an open mind when you meet my brother. He's a good guy, just very single-minded in his focus to make his business a success. Will you give him a chance? I think you and he could be friends. My brother could really use a friend."

"Of course. I'll give your brother a chance. What's his first name? Kate told me, but I forgot."

"His name is Christian." Elliot winks and grabs my hand. "Ready for some fun? Let's bust up this interview."

 **Christian**

"Mr. Grey, you are very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?"

Katherine Effing Kavanagh.

She's so fucking annoying. Is this the best she's got? I knew this interview was a bad idea.

But after being hounded relentlessly by the tenacious Miss Kavanagh, and then cornered by her father, how could I say no? I couldn't put a huge fiber optics deal in jeopardy, all because of a silly interview for a campus rag. The interview also carries the additional benefit of bringing attention to the grants I've given to the agriculture department for soil science research. I really had no choice but to grant Miss Kavanagh an interview.

Miss Kavanagh's questions have been predictable and uninspired. I'm less than impressed with her journalistic abilities, especially given she is the daughter of a media mogul. Eamon Kavanagh is a genius. Just goes to show, even folks who carry twenty-three pairs of outstanding chromosomes can have a bad outcome when it comes to offspring.

In addition to lacking finesse, Miss Kavanagh carries a know-it-all attitude and an undercurrent of bitchiness. She thinks she has me all figured out. Well, guess what, Miss Kavanagh? I've spent a small fortune on therapists, as have my parents before me, and nobody has been able to unravel the fucked up mess I call my life.

As I look her over, I decide, that unlike me, the fashionable Miss Kavanagh can't possibly be adopted. She's an attractive blend of Eamon and his wife, Dana.

Yes, the petite, blonde, and well-groomed Katherine Kavanagh would be considered pretty by anyone's standards. Except perhaps mine. You see, my dick doesn't get hard for blondes, especially not for abrasive blondes like this one.

Just when I think this interview can't get worse, Miss Kavanagh asks the most intrusive question.

"Do you have a special someone in your life, Mr. Grey?"

"Miss Kavanagh, why would you ask such a personal question?"

I give her my most intimidating glare, but she doesn't back down. This infuriating female isn't the least bit embarrassed about overstepping the bounds of propriety. The blonde twat might as well be giving me the middle finger. Looking me straight in the eye, she tries to defend herself.

"Well, the press has labelled you Seattle's Most Eligible Bachelor, so it's a question of interest to my readers, both male and female."

Damn it, is she trying to uncover my sexual orientation? I enjoy speculation over my sexual proclivities, because the confusion discourages others from hitting on me or playing matchmaker.

The impertinent Miss Kavanagh had best back off, or I'll be calling her father this afternoon. I pinch the bridge of my nose and silently count to ten. Just as I'm about to put this nervy little shrew in her place, the doors to my office fly open.

My knucklehead brother bursts into the room. He's older than me by four years, but most of the time he behaves like a fucking teenager.

"Hey, bro. And hello, gorgeous! Chrissy, aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Jesus, El, what are you doing here? I'm in an interview." What the hell is going on and how did I lose control of my schedule and my office? It's not like Andrea to be away from the reception desk when I have a meeting in my office. Does she make a practice of allowing Elliot to run amok?

"Dude, where are your manners? I'm glad Mom isn't here to witness your rudeness. Luckily I've brought someone with me who can offer a proper introduction."

Suddenly I catch sight of a small feminine form stepping out from behind Elliot.

What I see takes my breath away.

A thick tumble of long chestnut hair frames a heart-shaped face set with powder blue eyes and full rosy lips. Slim, pale legs rise from stilettos. Her dress clings to her curves. I want to get closer, but she seems a bit reticent, hanging back next to Elliot.

Miss Kavanagh leaps from her seat and bounds over to hug the petite brunette.

"Ana! Is everything okay? How did you know where to find me?"

The brunette's name is Ana.

Ana.

She smiles and whispers to Miss Kavanagh, "Everything is fine, Kate. This is my friend, Elliot Grey. He helped me when I fell down in the lobby. Elliot, this is Kate Kavanagh, my dearest friend."

Was my brown haired beauty injured in the lobby? _My_ beauty? Why am I feeling proprietary all of a sudden? Who is this girl and how does she know Miss Kavanagh?

"Kate, where have you been all my life?" My brother's eyes shamelessly drink her up.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Elliot." With an emphasis on the word pleasure, Kavanagh smiles brightly and rakes her eyes over my brother. Her gaze is frank and admiring.

The lovely brunette observes our companions with wonder and amusement. She's pleased to see the two hit it off.

Feeling like an intruder in my own office, I cough loudly to get Elliot's attention.

"Sorry, Bro. Meet my friend, Anastasia Steele. Ana, this is my baby brother, Christian Grey."

I extend my hand to the lovely Anastasia, and when our fingers make contact, a jolt of electricity runs straight through me. I think she felt it, too. Our eyes lock, and it's as if she can see straight into my soul.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Steele. Did you injure yourself when you fell? Do you need to file an accident report? We have a nurse on the premises. Shall I call?"

Please, please, please. Let me take care of you.

Her blue eyes are filled with warmth. I reluctantly let go of her hand.

"No, Mr. Grey, I'm fine. No need for any fuss. I'm known for my lack of coordination."

Anastasia giggles, and the sweet sound shoots pleasure straight to my cock.

Sweet Jesus, have mercy on my soul.


	4. Crush

**Thank you, Reinee Raman, for your encouragement. This chapter is for you!**

 **The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Crush**

 **Thursday, May 5, 2011**

 **Christian**

"I'd love to have lunch with you, Elliot," Miss Kavanagh coos.

My brother, the family Casanova, has already secured a lunch date. I know where this is headed, and I don't like the idea of explaining to Eamon Kavanagh that my brother fucked his daughter.

At least Elliot doesn't seem interested in Anastasia. Why does this relieve me? Why should I care? I've never been possessive of any woman before.

"We're all going to lunch. I texted Mia to meet us at Mile High. Wrap up this interview, pronto. You, little brother, are picking up the check."

"Back the fuck up, Elliot, explain everything from the top. What makes you think I can just take off for lunch?"

"Come on, Chrissy, live a little. Be spontaneous."

Spontaneous is not in my lexicon. Spontaneous equals out of control.

"What the hell is going on? I'm extremely busy. If you want me to get away for the weekend, I need to get some work done."

"Listen up, dweebazoid, here's the Reader's Digest version. Ana and Kate are besties. Ana filled me in on the particulars of her most awesome friend, Kate, and since I was here, hoping to do lunch with you, I thought we could all dine together, make a party of it. Ana already agreed to lunch and now Kate has also accepted. You can eat alone here in your cold, sterile office. All the better for me. I'll get both babes all to myself."

Elliot steps between the two women and throws his arms over their shoulders. Oh, hell no, he needs to take his mitt off my girl. _My_ girl? Where did that come from?

"Ana and I would love to join you for lunch, Elliot. Since we're moving to Seattle soon, we're looking to make new friends."

The Kavanagh girl is eye-fucking my brother and not being one bit subtle about it. She's flirtatious and predatory, two characteristics I dislike in a female. Her prattling is irritating, though it's good to hear that the little brunette will soon be moving to Seattle.

"Well, Bro, what do you say? Coming or staying?"

"Fine. I guess I can do lunch."

Elliot has a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He's up to something.

Miss Kavanagh has signed an NDA, but if we're sharing lunch, I need one from Miss Steele. Too many things can go wrong without one.

"Miss Kavanagh, do you have what you need for your article?"

"I'd like some photographs. I brought a camera and hoped you wouldn't mind indulging me. It wouldn't take more than a few minutes."

I should offer her some stock photos from the PR department and be done with it, but fresh photos mean I get to spend a few more minutes in the presence of the lovely Anastasia.

"That's fine. Miss Steele, would you mind signing an NDA?"

My blue-eyed beauty gives me a look of recognition.

"That's the thing Kate had to sign saying she wouldn't talk about you outside the context of the interview."

"Yes. Actually there's a bit more to it than that, so you should thoroughly read the document. If we're to be in each other's company for any length of time, you absolutely must sign it."

Elliot rolls his eyes and shakes his head disapprovingly. Excuse me, asshole, for caring about my reputation.

"Sure. I'll sign." Anastasia seems quite agreeable and accommodating.

I get Andrea on the intercom and request the NDA.

Miss Kavanagh turns to her friend, "Since you have some experience, would you mind getting off a few quick shots?"

"Of course not. Mr. Grey, would you please go stand by the windows? What do you think, Kate? Any druthers? This is your article."

Miss Steele seems to defer to her friend. Perhaps she is naturally submissive. No, that's just me projecting my desires upon her. I shouldn't be thinking of her that way. Submissive is my default setting. I need to reset my thinking and remember that though she looks extraordinary, she's probably an ordinary girl. A hearts and flowers girl.

"You understand light better than I do. I figure all those hours spent alone with José must have yielded some benefit." Miss Kavanagh laughs at her own remark.

Who is this José fucker? Anastasia's boyfriend? Miss Kavanagh pulls the camera out of the bag, while the delectable Miss Steele follows me to the wall of windows.

"The light up here is lovely. Wow. The view is killer."

Miss Steele likes my bird's-eye view of downtown Seattle and Puget Sound, but I guarantee it isn't half as interesting as what I'm looking at right now.

My brunette turns her back to me for a moment and I spy a zipper running the length of her dress. My dick turns to granite at the thought of pulling that zipper down. I wonder what kind of undergarments she's wearing. She has the most beautiful peaches and cream complexion. Flawless. I imagine running my hands up and down her bare back and over that cute little derriere of hers.

"Face the window and look straight out at the skyline, please. Now turn your head a bit to the left, so I can get a partial profile." I discreetly adjust myself, thankful my back is turned and she can't see my obvious boner.

"First, with your hands in your pant pockets." She wants to take a photo of my back view? I happily obey her commands, the soft click of the camera's shutter in the background.

"Keep your head turned to the side, but spread your legs, Mr. Grey, and take your hands out of your pockets. Move your hands behind your back, standing at ease."

Spread my legs? Yes, I can accommodate Miss Steele.

"Uhm, yes, Mr. Grey, just like that." Her soft, sweet breathy voice is both calming and arousing.

"Would you move in front of your desk now, please? Fold your arms over your chest and lean back against your desk. Look at me, Mr. Grey. Yes. Now cross your legs at the ankle."

As I assume the proper position, I hear Miss Steele sigh. She lowers the Nikon to her chest, and appraises me. Her jaw is slack and her eyes are filled with lust. Shit, I'm turning her on! She goes back to her camera work, but her breathing is accelerated.

Elliot stands behind the two girls, and he just can't help himself. Always the juvenile jokester, he contorts his face and makes hand motions as if he's jacking off. His attempts to make me laugh are fruitless. Thankfully Elliot has found a professional home in the construction industry, where they don't hold his sophomoric behavior against him.

"Let's get a couple with you smiling. Then you can be the serious businessman in the last few."

I imagine Anastasia's body beneath mine and a salacious grin effortlessly spreads across my face. I think this is the smile Ros calls my 'panty dropper.' This must be the money shot, because Miss Steele blushes in reaction.

"Perfect, Mr. Grey."

I release my smile and take on my CEO demeanor, but Miss Steele is still flushed and nervous, and there's something more. Shame? Confusion? She's puzzling. She intrigues me.

Elliot can't stay quiet for long.

"If this little acquisitions business of yours doesn't work out, you can always become a GQ model. Looks like chicks dig that pretty mug and the way your threads hang."

He voices acknowledgement of Miss Steele's response to me, and sweet Anastasia blushes brightly at the realization that others have noticed her reaction to me.

A few shutter clicks later, and Anastasia lowers the camera. She crooks her right index finger, beckoning me to look back through the shots. Shit, that little finger crook of hers is sexy.

"Let me know if there are any you'd like deleted." I stand as close to her as I dare, looking over her shoulder as she scrolls through the images.

Miss Kavanagh joins us and nods approvingly at her friend's work.

"These are really great, Ana. And thank you, Mr. Grey, for allowing the photos. Do you have any preferences regarding which shots we use? I think they're all very good."

"Well, Miss Kavanagh, since Miss Steele took the photos, I think we should allow her to choose."

"Fair enough! Thank you, Mr. Grey, for the interview. When we go to press, I'll e-mail copies to you and your PR director."

Elliot interrupts, jerking his phone out of his pocket.

"Hey, why don't we get a pic of the four of us? Squeeze in for a selfie."

What the fuck! Elliot knows I have touch issues. Quickly I grab Anastasia and pull her close, not quite touching her back to my front. I hold her hands in front of her, so they can't wander. Elliot assumes a similar stance with Miss Kavanagh, and he snaps off a few photos.

Andrea enters the office with Miss Steele's NDA. Her eyes widen at the selfie spectacle. This is definitely a new sight for Andrea. She waits while the little brunette signs the form, and quickly retreats back to her station.

"Miss Steele, didn't I suggest you read the NDA before signing it?"

"Yes, you did, Mr. Grey, but you don't know me. I'm not the blabby type, so it doesn't matter what's in the document. I'll respect your privacy. Kate is the same way."

"I appreciate that, but my lawyers insist on an NDA."

Anastasia sighs in resignation.

"El, how about you grab Reynolds and walk the ladies down to the parking garage? I have a couple of things to do. I'll be down within five minutes."

"Laters, Bro, don't leave us hangin'."

I can hear Elliot launching his charm offensive all the way down the hall to the elevator.

I grab my phone and get Welch on the line.

"You need to drop everything and run two background checks. The first one is Anastasia Steele, a student at Washington State – Vancouver. The second is Katherine Kavanagh, daughter of Eamon Kavanagh and Miss Steele's best friend. How quickly can you get this done?"

I can't remember when, if ever, a woman has captured my imagination like Miss Steele has. I want to know everything about her.

It didn't seem necessary earlier to run a check on Miss Kavanagh, but seeing as how my siblings and I are now going to be in an intimate social setting with her, I want to know more about her as well.

"You'll have the reports within a couple of hours." Welch is quite efficient, but even I'm continually surprised by his speed. "Sir, I hear you are taking a well-deserved long weekend. Enjoy your break, sir."

I rarely take time off, so when I do, apparently it becomes newsworthy to my employees.

While grabbing my phone from the charger on Andrea's desk, I see Jason Taylor, my CPO, waiting for me. Taylor is simply the best, always anticipating my every move.

"Sir, the new hire, Luke Sawyer, is driving Miss Grey from Escala to Mile High."

"Guess you know Elliot has invited two friends, so there will be five of us for lunch. Text Sawyer to let him know what to expect."

"Already done, sir." And that's why I pay Taylor the big bucks.

"Welch will run background checks on Miss Kavanagh and Miss Steele. They've both signed NDAs. Just wanted to let you know before you take off for the weekend. Enjoy time with your daughter."

"About that…I'd hoped to spend tomorrow with Sophie, but my ex wants her for the entire Mother's Day weekend. I need to speak to you for a moment, sir, about a delicate matter."

"Yes?" What on earth could this be about?

"Sir, I've made plans to accompany Gail this weekend to her sister's house in Portland. I want you to know Gail and I have become romantically involved. We hope this won't affect our employment. We'd like to have your blessing, sir."

This isn't news to me as I've witnessed the furtive glances, the light touches as they brush against each other while moving around the kitchen. They'll never know, but I once saw them exchange tender kisses in the laundry room. They share quarters, so there has been ample opportunity for an attraction to develop.

"I may not be capable of a romantic relationship, but I recognize one when I see it. Please reassure Gail. Your employment is secure. I highly value each of you. Since I won't be back until late Monday afternoon, you and Gail should take the opportunity to get away and enjoy yourselves."

Shit, I couldn't function without Gail and Taylor. I need to do whatever I can to keep them happy. If they can do their jobs and canoodle at the same time, I'm all for it.

"Thank you, sir. Gail will be relieved to know you approve. Here we are, sir. Looks like your brother has already situated himself in the back seat with the ladies."

I open the front passenger side door to climb in. "Have a safe trip, Taylor."

"And a safe journey to you as well, Sir. Enjoy Montana."

Reynolds greets me, and we are off. I look back and Elliot has an arm around each girl. Anastasia looks a little bit uneasy, but Miss Kavanagh is in her element. The Kavanagh girl and Elliot are a flirtatious match.

"I love the Mile High Club, Mr. Grey. My parents have taken me many times, and Elliot just told us you're the owner. What made you decide to get into the restaurant business?"

Is she still interviewing me? Didn't we wrap that shit up?

"Well, Miss Kavanagh, I purchased it a couple of years ago. I had always liked the location and atmosphere, and wanted a secure place where I could always put together a meeting or social function on short notice. The owner was open to selling, so I jumped."

"What's with the formality? Mr. Grey and Miss Kavanagh? We're all friends here. I'm Elliot and this is Ana. You two are Kate and Christian. Seriously, bro, let your hair down."

Someone's phone goes off, and the ringtone is some ridiculous Alvin and the Chipmunks crap. Apparently it's not Anastasia's phone, because she's looking expectantly at Miss Kavanagh.

"It's Ethan. My brother. Sorry, but I need to take this."

Kavanagh speaks lowly into her phone.

"Hey…Yes, I'm with Ana…I'll tell her…Ana, Ethan sends his love."

What the fuck? Does Anastasia have something going with this Kavanagh boy?

"What?! When did they decide to do that?...I guess Ana and I will just head back down to Vancouver…That's fine…No, I don't want to stay at the house without Mom and Dad there. No reason for it…What about you?...Please use protection…Okay, love you too."

Miss Kavanagh lets out a sigh of frustration and leans across Elliot to speak to Anastasia.

"Mom and Dad have gone to Napa with friends for the weekend, so our little surprise isn't going to happen. Guess we'll just head back home."

"Oh, Bug, it's okay. We'll see them at graduation. If we go back tonight, we won't have to miss any classes. I know you're disappointed, and so am I, but maybe this is for the best. Did Ethan not want to meet up with us in Redmond?"

"No, the big dope is in Olympia and he's hooked up with some old flame."

If the kid is hooking up with someone, there's probably nothing going on with Miss Steele. Why do I feel so relieved about that?

Both girls seem down in the dumps after the phone call, but as soon as we pull in front of Columbia Tower, they brighten up. I exit the car quickly to help Anastasia out of the car, leaving Elliot to attend to the Kavanagh girl.

 **Anastasia**

I am captivated.

I sit behind Mr. Grey, and study his beautiful copper mop. I see a blend of russet, brown, sorrel, cinnamon, and gold. Thick locks of loose curls fall in different directions, giving his hair what Kate calls the 'just fucked' look.

He turns in his car seat to speak to Elliot, and I'm treated to his elegant profile. His jaw is strong and square, and his patrician nose is so sharp and straight it could cut paper. If I were to stare too long into his flinty, gray eyes, they would burn me like a thousand suns.

Just to gaze upon Christian Grey is pure bliss. I never believed I could feel an attraction like this. He is surely the most beautiful person on the planet.

The universe is toying with me, playing a grand joke. And the joke is completely on me, because Christian Grey has no use for a mousy bookworm from Montesano. There's absolutely nothing interesting about me. Christian Grey is out of my league. He's brilliant, handsome, and fascinating.

Christian barely looks my way, and when he does, it's with annoyance, or at best, a bored disinterest. He's unfailingly polite, but he keeps his distance. I feel my own need to stay out of his way, so as not to irritate him.

Christian offers his hand to help me out of the car. His touch is electric, and I welcome the opportunity for physical contact, however brief. Despite his brusque demeanor, Christian has lovely manners. He maintains a polite, formal distance from Kate and me.

Elliot is a completely different story. He's such a sweet man, and his playful flirtations are harmless and charming.

Kate is always cool as a cucumber around men, but I know her well enough to see that she is quite taken with Elliot. It's the way she ever so slightly keeps her body turned toward Elliot at all times, and cocks her head to the side when he talks to her.

I feel a bit out of my element as we enter the elevator heading up to the top floor of Columbia Tower. I don't fit into Christian Grey's world, so even if he felt something for me, it wouldn't work out.

Kate senses my discomfort and whispers in my ear, "You look faboo, Steele. This will be fun." She grins and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Ana Banana, you are going to love the food. The view isn't bad either."

"Ana Banana? Elliot, that is such a cute nickname for Ana. It suits her."

"It does, doesn't it? Anastasia Steele, forever until the end of time, you are hereby dubbed Ana Banana." Elliot bows to me.

I giggle. A little too loudly, I think. I expect a look of disapproval from Christian, but it doesn't appear.

"I've never had a nickname. I'm not the nickname sort, but I have to admit, when you call me 'banana,' I don't hate it. What's your nickname?"

"I'm El or Ellie. And Chrissy here sometimes calls me Lelliot, from when he was little and couldn't say my name properly."

"Kate is Katie Bug. It's a play on ladybug. One of her aunts started it when Kate was a baby. Christian, does everyone call you Chrissy?"

"Only Mia and Elliot. Don't get any ideas." Christian gives me a stern look. Oh, shit, I'm irritating him again. I need to stay out of his way and try to blend with the wall.

The Mile High Club is seventy-six floors up, and the elevator ride takes several minutes. Christian's driver, or maybe he's a bodyguard, accompanies us. Christian calls him Reynolds.

Kate asks Elliot what he recommends from the lunch menu. He pokes his belly out and rubs it, provoking laughter from Kate and me. "They do steaks really well, but the seafood is also quite good. Maybe I'll have two entrees."

Kate raises a brow. "Do you usually eat such a large lunch? You seem to have quite an appetite."

With a lascivious grin, Elliot whisper-shouts, "You have no idea, Kate, absolutely no idea how great my appetites are."

Christian rolls his eyes disapprovingly, "Really, El?"

"Listen and learn, bro. This is for your benefit. It's time you learned how to talk to a woman and got that cherry of yours popped."

Christian is a virgin? I never would have guessed. Elliot shouldn't tease about such personal things. Being sexually inexperienced myself, I understand Christian's situation.

I peek up at Christian. He glares menacingly at Elliot.

"El, think you can put a cork in it?"

The remainder of the ride is quiet, and when the elevator door opens, the tension among us eases.

A tall platinum blonde hostess leads us to a small private dining room. She pays absolutely no attention to Kate or me, but she flirtatiously winks at Elliot, as if they share an intimate secret. Elliot flushes with embarrassment and shrugs his shoulders at Kate.

A raven-haired beauty with big brown eyes is already seated at the beautifully appointed table. She jumps up at the sight of our group.

"Hi! I'm Mia, the baby sister. It's wonderful to meet you both! You're Ana and you're Kate, right?" She points to us, matching the correct name with the correct person. "The photo Elliot texted me doesn't do either of you justice."

Mia grabs me, pulling me in for a hug, then does the same with Kate. Wow! Mia's charm is impressive. She exudes warmth and energy. I instantly like her.

Elliot hugs Mia, and he picks her up off the ground, eliciting a loud squeal. Mia leans in toward Christian, takes hold of his forearms, and plants a light kiss on each cheek. The contrast in greetings is quite noticeable, but both brothers beam with love and pride at their sister.

Mia sits, pulling Elliot down next to her. Kate and I sit across from them. Christian assumes the head of the table between Kate and Mia.

Elliot playfully tugs at a lock of his sister's hair, "I missed you, baby sis! Your hair is different. _You_ are different. We need to catch up."

"After I got in last night, Christian and I visited for a bit, but it was so late. The three of us need to throw back a few this weekend. I'm home for good and considering opening a patisserie."

Mia turns to Kate and me, and explains. "I've been in Paris, studying with Maxime Floubert, one of the world's best pastry chefs. Floubert was quite an ogre, but I learned more than I ever imagined. So how do you all know each other?"

Elliot lays it all out, telling Mia about our coincidental meeting, and Kate's interview with Christian. Mia is very amused and seems quite pleased to meet Kate and me. As Elliot talks he continually looks back at Kate as if seeking approval. Yes, Elliot is definitely enthralled by my friend.

"Ana and I are having a wonderful day. There's another interview for Ana. At three she's meeting with Puget Press, and then we head home. Our intentions were to stay until Monday, but our plans fell through." Kate's face registers disappointment at the thought of our doomed plan to surprise Mama K.

I feel eyes on me, and when I look up, I find Christian Grey glaring at me. What have I done now to irritate him? I've barely spoken a word since we left the elevator.

Kate, my sister-friend, can feel I'm out of sorts, and her hand finds mine under the table.

"Mia, where's the ladies' room? Ana and I need to freshen up."

"I'll take you. Let's go." Mia grabs Kate's arm and Kate grabs mine.

The ladies' room is actually two large rooms. The anteroom is a lounge area, beautifully appointed with crystal chandeliers and red toile wallpaper. There are two sofas upholstered in red damask and two leather club chairs in cream. Near the entrance a large mixed flower arrangement sits on an octagonal table. A panelled door swings open to the restroom, where the toilet stalls and a bank of marble sinks are housed.

As Mia steps into one of the stalls, Kate pulls me back into the lounge.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, Kate, I feel like such a loser around Christian."

"Who cares what he thinks? Christian has all the personality of a cold mashed potato sandwich. After lunch we'll probably never see either of these guys again." Kate giggles, "Though I wouldn't mind doing the dirty with Elliot. But why do you feel like a loser?"

"Gah...I'm an idiot."

"Don't talk about my friend that way, Ana Banana." Kate uses my new nickname. She always knows how to make me smile. "What's going on?"

"Well, I'm a mess around Christian, because I feel things for him. He's the first guy I've ever wanted to…do things with, not that he would ever look at someone like me. But still, he's stirred some feelings in me. For certain, I'm not asexual."

"See, I told you so! No way could you be asexual. And why wouldn't Christian Grey want to get up with you? You're beautiful. Oh, my God, my girl has a crush! Your first crush!" Kate's volume increases with her excitement.

Mia pops through the swinging door. "What's up? Everything okay? Ana?"

I force a smile.

"Everything's fine. Just nervous about my interview. It's for an editor's assistant position."

"I'm sure you'll do well. You look great. Both of you do. I should get back to the table. See you two in a minute."

I keep my voice low, just in case Mia should suddenly return.

"What do you think of Elliot?" I think he's perfect for my friend, but what does she think?

"He's hotter than hot. Actually, I believe he's the most attractive man I've ever met."

Whoa. I know Kate's attracted to him, but most attractive man she's ever met?!

"If he wanted to date you, would you? Let's say he calls you after we move here to Seattle, would you go out with him?"

"Of course."

"He's very attracted to you. It's easy to see. What if he wanted a relationship?" Kate dates a lot, but doesn't keep anyone around for long. She's only had one boyfriend, and that was back in her high school days.

"Sure. I'd consider a relationship with Elliot. Where's this coming from?"

"It's my intuition working overtime. I know your modus operandi dictates you take him to a utility closet before the dessert course, but I think you should move at a slower pace with Elliot. He's sweet, and I think he'd be good for you. You'd be good for him."

"You really think he's into me?"

"Yes, most definitely."

"I should move slowly?" Kate questions, as if it's something she's never considered before.

I nod.

"I could try. But what if he doesn't want to move slowly? You have no idea how difficult it is to resist a delicious man like Elliot Grey."

"Bug, you have more discipline than anyone I know and you could sell ice to Eskimos. Surely you can convince Elliot your hot bod is worth the wait of a few dates. I want to see you happy. I don't wanna revisit the bunny pajamas anytime soon. Make sure he gets your phone number this afternoon."

"And what about you and Moneybags? Will you give him your number?"

"He won't ask for my number. But if he wanted to take me to the utility closet, I'd go in a heartbeat. If I had the chance, I'd move faster than the speed of light with Christian Grey. It took almost twenty-two years to find a man for whom I feel an attraction, and I don't know if I'll find another."

"Whoa, Steele! Would you really go straight to bed with him?"

"Yes. Yes, I would."

"So I should take things slowly, but you should jump in feet first?" Kate playfully slaps my hand. "You little hypocrite!"

"There's no hope for a relationship between Christian and me, but it's different for you and Elliot. You have him under your spell. He hangs on your every word."

"Ana, you've given me something to consider. Sometimes I think we know each other better than we know ourselves."

"I'm a dateless virgin. I probably shouldn't give relationship advice."

"You don't give advice often, but when you do, it's always sound…Sweetie, I'm a tad worried."

"Throw it out there."

"You just discovered your itch and you want to scratch it. Believe me...I, of all people, completely understand. But you're not built the way Becca and I are. You have a tender heart, so please promise you won't hand your v-card to the first guy who smells good."

"I promise. I'd never do that. The only man I want to sniff is Christian Grey, and he can't abide me. Did you see the way he glares at me? I'm going to be carrying my card for a very long time."

"Okay, then. I'll try not to act like a mother hen. Does my hair look okay?"

"Perfect. Let's get back out there, so you can dazzle Elliot some more."

When Kate and I return to the small private dining room, Elliot and Christian rise, once again showing their good manners. All three Greys have become quiet, and there is a momentary awkwardness.

After a few beats, Mia speaks. "My brothers and I have been discussing how much we enjoy your company. Since your plans fell through, we wonder if you two would like to join our family in Montana this weekend."

My eyes meet Kate's, and she's just as shocked as I am at the invitation.

"When will you depart Seattle and when will you return?" Kate asks. She takes a sip of some white wine that has magically found its way to her place setting.

"Our flight is set to depart at three," Christian answers. "But since Anastasia has her interview, we'll leave Seattle whenever she finishes. We have complete flexibility. We hope to arrive back here on Monday in the early afternoon."

"C'mon, it'll be fun," Elliot chimes in. "Hiking, pony rides, hot tub. You know you want to come, Kate."

Ha! Nothing suggestive in any of that!

Elliot waggles his eyebrows at my friend. I can see Kate wants this long weekend in Montana with him.

As captivated as I am by Christian, I have concerns.

"Sounds like a great time, but Kate and I didn't pack proper clothing for hiking, ponies, and hot tubs. And I don't have money for airfare to Montana. The invitation is much appreciated, but we must decline."

Christian leans forward in his chair and catches my gaze.

"Are you saying, Anastasia, if clothing and airfare were not problems, you and Katherine would be willing to accompany us? Let me put your mind at ease. We're taking my private jet, so airfare isn't an issue. As for clothing, I will purchase everything you and Katherine may need. My personal shopper can have it all arranged before we depart."

Christian sounds every bit like a CEO negotiating a deal.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable accepting clothing from you, Christian."

Kate looks to me, and back to Christian.

"Could you please excuse us? We need to step out of the room for a minute and discuss this."

"Of course, Katherine, I've already ordered our meals, and they should be ready when you return."

Kate and I return to the ladies' room. We look around to make certain we're alone.

"I can't afford new clothes and I won't let you or Christian buy them for me. Besides, we don't really know this family. The three siblings seem wonderful, but we don't know much about them, or who else will be there. And I get the distinct impression Christian doesn't like either one of us. I'm sure it wasn't his idea to invite us."

"Relax. Mom and Dad are acquaintances of Christian and his parents. They have high regard for all three of them. As for the clothes, I say we allow Christian to order them up. His purchase of a few items of clothing is like you treating José to peanut butter and jelly. It's nothing to him. I think we should go to Montana. The alternative of going back home just seems so sad right now."

"I don't know..."

"Just think of how hot Christian is." Kate winks. "Imagine him in a hot tub. If he won't talk to you, at least you'll get to stare at him all weekend. You'll get to hang out with Mia. She's so cool and easy to be around. And Elliot is a blast. You and he are already friends. Please, Ana, pretty please. You know how much I want to hook up with Elliot."

I pace back and forth in front of the stalls. Kate's green eyes implore me to say yes to this weekend proposal. Her pleading look erodes any resolve I might have had. I don't want to go back home and listen to _woulda, shoulda, coulda_ all weekend.

"Oh, what the hell. Okay. Go back and tell them yes. I'll be there in a minute."

"Yay! I promise you won't be sorry. Don't take long in here. Love you, sweetie."

After giving me a triumphant hug, Kate practically skips out of the room.

What am I getting myself into? I wet a paper towel and run it over my throat and the back of my neck.

Lunch is being served when I return. Christian ordered the same meal for each of us: Chilean sea bass, risotto, and asparagus. The food is absolutely wonderful. Everyone has wine, except me. I need to be stone-cold sober for my interview.

"Anastasia, Sawyer and I will drop you off for your interview this afternoon. Text me when you're finished and we'll pick you up. Let me see your phone."

I hold my flip phone out to Christian and he recoils at the sight of it.

"This is yours?"

I nod, and he puts his number into my contacts. Christian hands my phone back, pulls out a Blackberry, and asks for my number.

Mia leans across the table toward me. "Elliot and I will take Kate to Neiman's at the Bravern to pick up the clothes. Since Kate knows your sizes and preferences, we thought she could shop for the both of you. I've contacted Caroline Acton, the personal shopper, and she's pulling clothing appropriate for your needs. Kate says you hate to shop. Is that true?"

"Yes, Kate knows me well. As nervous as I am about this interview, I'll take a grilling any day over shopping." Christian looks at me quizzically.

As we finish up our meal, it's a quarter 'til two. It's too early for my interview, but Kate, Mia and Elliot need to depart for Bravern.

Christian and I agree to stay in the dining room and visit until it's time to leave for my interview.

While we were eating, Christian sent Sawyer to fetch Kate's car and move it to the Escala garage for the weekend. Escala is the name of the condo building where Christian lives. It's interesting to see how Christian operates. He says the word and things immediately begin to happen. Private dining room, personal shopper, private jet. There are minions to perform a multitude of tasks.

A waiter checks on us and Christian turns to me. "Anastasia, how about some dessert?"

"No, thank you, but I would like a cup of tea. Twining's English Breakfast, if they have it."

Christian grins in pleasure, looks up at the waiter and relays my request. He seems genuinely happy to accommodate me. _He wants to please me?_

"Anastasia, tell me about your family. Where did you grow up?"

"I was born and raised in Montesano. I'm an only child, so I'm quite envious of friends like you and Kate, with your siblings. My mother lives in Georgia with her fourth husband. My stepdad lives in Montesano."

"Where's your father?"

"My father died the day after I was born. It was a military training accident at Ft. Lewis. I've always wondered if he was happy about my arrival, or perhaps he was disappointed, and the distraction of it contributed to the accident."

Shit. Too much personal information. This man doesn't want to hear your innermost fears. Move on.

"My mother was nineteen, a young widow with an infant. She took up with Ray, my stepfather, when I was ten months old. I suppose my mother did the best she could. I admire my stepdad very much. He never adopted me, but I consider him my father."

"So you get on well with your stepdad?"

"Yes, I adore him. Ray Steele is the greatest man who ever lived."

"The greatest, eh? No man will ever be able to compete with a dad who is the greatest man who ever lived."

I feel a blush heat my face.

"Are you saying I have daddy issues? I really don't think that's the case. Ray owed me nothing, but he gave me everything, a home, his name, unconditional love. He'd do anything for me. He travelled all the way from Washington to Texas and rescued me from a bad situation, solely on the basis of a ten second phone call."

"Why did you need rescuing from Texas?"

"An indecently short time after my parents divorced, my mother married a man named Stephen Morton. She was completely charmed by him, and insisted I move with her to Texas, where Stephen had a home. I wanted to stay here in Washington with my dad, but I was given no choice. We barely unpacked in Texas before chaos erupted. Stephen was a raging alcoholic, bitter and angry. Every evening there was a great deal of cursing, screaming, shouting. It escalated to physical violence against my mother. The two of them fought incessantly. One evening he broke her nose and dislocated her shoulder. I called the police, which meant I became another target of Stephen's anger."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, he never got the chance. I called Dad. All I had to say was, 'Daddy, things are bad. Please come get me.' He said, 'Sit tight, Annie. I'm on my way.' He got on the next plane, and took me away from there. I couldn't have had a better father figure."

Christian stares at me. He doesn't say anything, and it makes me uneasy.

"Do I make you nervous, Anastasia?"

"You're very intimidating."

"Do all men intimidate you?"

"No, just you. Your presence is very commanding, very authoritative. I believe you always get your way."

"You're right about that. When I decide I want something, I don't give up until it's mine."

There's a dark, sensual undercurrent to his voice. I get the feeling he isn't talking about business. I'm uncomfortable in a way I've never felt before. My panties feel damp, my arms and legs feel weak, and my brain is in a weird fog.

I need to pull myself together. How will I survive the weekend if I can't properly speak to this man?

"Tell me about your parents, Christian."

"Elliot, Mia, and I are all adopted. None of us are biologically related. Our mother is a pediatrician and our father is an attorney. You'll meet them this weekend. Actually, I have a favor to ask you, Anastasia."

"Sure, I'm happy to help if I can. What do you need?"

"Remember...you and Kate signed NDAs?"

"Yes."

"I'm an extremely private person, Anastasia. I'm so private that I don't even share my private life with my family." Christian speaks slowly, watching my face warily.

Where's this headed? Does this concern his sexual orientation or inexperience? Elliot said Christian needs to get his cherry popped.

"Is this about you being a gay virgin, Christian? I would never judge you for your preferences or choices."

Christian laughs and leans forward. Even though we're completely alone, he whispers just loudly enough for me to hear.

"I'm not gay."

"But you're a virgin?"

"No, I'm not a virgin." Christian grins broadly.

"Celibate?"

Christian shakes his head, and chuckles.

"No, not celibate. I'm attracted to women and have had sexual relationships with women. However, I don't date and have never had a girlfriend. I don't become romantically entangled, as that kind of relationship doesn't interest me."

There's the word, _entangled._ When I used it, Elliot said it was a word choice Christian might make.

"So what does any of that have to do with me doing a favor for you? I'm confused."

"I want to try something new this weekend, something I've never done with a woman, and I wonder if you could help me."

What?!

Does he want me to dress up like Little Bo-Peep? Or perhaps he wants to be the shepherd and I'll be the sheep! I recall Kate's morning banter, and her suggestion that Christian is into kink. What in the world does he want to try?

"Don't be alarmed. Please let me explain. I've never had a girlfriend, or even a friend who is a girl, and I was hoping that perhaps you and I could try...try some kind of regular relationship. Just for the time we're in Montana, only for the weekend."

"Only for a weekend? I've never had a friendship with an expiration date."

"Outside family, I've only had relationships that are limited in scope and duration."

"That's certainly different." What a strange man.

"Do you have a boyfriend?

"No, there's no boyfriend." I'm feeling embarrassed, but I need to ask. "Is it sex you want?"

Christian's eyes widen. Have I shocked him?

"Do you want sex, Anastasia?"

YES! Two scoops, please!

"I want clarification. I'm not sure what you're asking of me."

"Do you find me attractive?"

Is he toying with me? He knows damn well I'm attracted to him.

"Yes."

"That's gratifying, because I find you extremely attractive. I'm not sure what's appropriate for our situation. Let's see what develops. I want to see if I can make a friend, and I want my family to see me with a friend."

"You don't have friends?" Elliot said his brother could really use one.

"No, not really. I'm a busy man." Christian lowers his head sadly.

"Nobody's that busy." How can someone like Christian Grey not have friends?

"You don't know how difficult it is."

"People tell me I'm easy to get along with, so a friendship with me won't be difficult. But you can't bully or intimidate me. That's not what friends do." He seems the bossy type, so I feel a need to set him straight.

"Okay. Why don't we begin by sitting together, talking, that sort of thing?"

"Sure."

"You have male friends, right? Like this Ethan character. You have experience I don't have, so perhaps you can show me how it's done. Can we be friends, Anastasia?"

"Of course, Christian. I'm happy to be your friend."

A weekend friendship is something I can do for this gorgeous man. I just hope I can hide my naughty attraction to him.

"It's official, then. Cheers, Anastasia. Here's to friendship."

Christian raises his wine glass, and I lift my tea cup. We both grin like idiots.


	5. Come Away With Me

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Come Away With Me**

 **Thursday, May 5, 2011**

 **Christian**

As soon as Mia escorted Anastasia and Katherine to the ladies' room, Elliot couldn't wait to spring his latest brain child on me.

"Bro, we should totally invite those two for the weekend. I need to get better acquainted with Kate."

"By getting acquainted, I assume you mean fucking her. Damn it, have some respect. It's Mother's Day, Elliot. The weekend is all about Mother and Grandmother. How will they feel about extra guests? Guests who are strangers?"

"Dude, you're a moron. This plan fulfills all of Mom's fantasies for us. These are sweet girls, good students, well-mannered. They have that girl next door quality that parents dig. And they are so effing hot! This is such a win for us. I get to hang out with…and yes, hopefully bang...a hot, gorgeous, brilliant blonde. And Ana is perfect for you. She gives off that sexy librarian vibe, and I get the feeling she has limited sexual experience, just like you. You can pop each other's cherries. But if you wanna keep your virtue intact, you can be Ana's gay friend. After all, Mom just wants you to have a friend."

"Too much can go wrong with this. We don't know these two. They're on the young side and, hell, they could be completely nuts. I don't enjoy being around people for very long, and especially people I don't know well. I don't want responsibility for keeping them entertained."

I'm conflicted. Anastasia is attractive, but if I spend time with her, I don't want that time shared with family. I want her alone with me in my penthouse. Shit, I'm kidding myself to think there is any chance in hell that I'll ever spend time alone with her.

She comes across as sweet and kind. If she knew the real me, Anastasia would have nothing to do with me. I have no idea how to behave with a girl in the presence of my family, and the prospect of having to do so creates great anxiety.

No, no, no. Elliot should not invite these girls to Montana. Outside a business setting, I have no idea what to do with a woman, other than than flog and fuck. How would I even talk to her? Ana probably doesn't know shit about business, and no way is she into kink. What do we have in common?

"It's just one weekend. Leave the entertainment to me. Mia seems to get along with them, and baby sis is a kick ass hostess. She'll keep the girls busy. Dude, what could go wrong? You worry too much. We'll have fun with these girls, Mom will be happy, and if things go tits up, we never have to see them again."

Mia arrives back at the table without the girls.

"Ana and Kate will be here in a minute. I think they need a moment together. Ana seems nervous about her interview. El, I can tell you're into Kate. She's gorgeous. So is Ana." At the mention of Ana, Mia looks directly into my eyes, as if she's testing me or issuing a challenge.

"I just suggested to Chrissy that we invite the girls to Montana. Their plans have fallen through and they have time on their hands. But Mr. Kill Joy here says no. He thinks Mom will have a problem with it."

"That's a great idea! Mom and Dad won't be upset. They'll be thrilled. The more, the merrier. Ask them as soon as they come back."

"Why don't you issue the invitation, Mia? It would sound best coming from you, rather than Chrissy or me. I don't want Kate thinking I want to get into her pants."

Elliot is always calling me out on my shit. It's time to return the favor.

"Since when have you cared what a woman thinks of your motives? All of Seattle knows getting laid is at the top of your daily to do list."

"Well, Bro, since my appointment this morning with Flynn—that's when. I'm pleased to announce that I am not a sex addict. I am merely promiscuous. Flynn said so."

I choke on my wine, and Mia laughs deliriously.

"Be sure to share that with our parents this weekend. I'm sure they'll feel so much better about your lifestyle. By the way, Mia, you missed out on Mom calling El a sex addict."

"What? Mom actually said it out loud? You'll have to fill me in over cocktails tonight. And what do you mean, you're not a sex addict? I didn't know there was any debate."

"Tell us, El. How, pray tell, did Flynn conclude you aren't a sex addict?" I try to imagine the conversation between Flynn and Elliot.

"Well, dear brother and sister, there is a test. It's called the SAST, an acronym for Sexual Addiction Screening Test. I scored a 5. You have to score a 6 or higher to have a possible diagnosis for sexual addiction. I'm just a run-of-the-mill horndog, not an addict. 'Hypersexual' is Flynn's term. However, sex addicts and run-of-the-mill sluts like myself do share a commonality, because both are trying to avoid emotional intimacy. Flynn and I determined that my goal is to be emotionally vulnerable and open. I'm planning to discuss it with Mom and Dad this weekend. I want to show them I'm moving forward in a healthy way."

Emotionally vulnerable? Hell, sometimes I feel like one huge gaping wound. I am as emotionally vulnerable as they come. As for holding myself open to allow others in? No, I can't do that. I'm incapable of emotional intimacy, which is why I don't date, don't make love, and don't do hearts and flowers. I've been through all this with Flynn.

Mia agrees to issue the weekend invitation to the girls. Both Mia and Elliot seem to think the girls will fit in well with our family. I have plenty of reservations about the entire thing, but there's no arguing with my siblings.

Katherine's face immediately brightens at the idea of spending the weekend with us, and if it were solely up to her, she'd give an immediate yes to the plan. It's Anastasia who kicks up a fuss, arguing about airfare and clothing.

Katherine takes the reins and pulls Anastasia out of the room to talk. The Kavanagh girl must be quite persuasive, because it isn't even three minutes later when she returns, sans Ana, but with a bright smile.

"Thank you so much for the lovely invitation. Ana and I are pleased to accept, and looking forward to getting to know you all better."

Well, fuck me, I guess Anastasia and Katherine will be going to Montana. Elliot is under the impression that Mother will enjoy seeing us with these girls. We'll see.

I wish I had time to squeeze in a session with Flynn before we depart, but that isn't possible. If things go south this weekend, I'll escape with work, shut everyone out, and let Elliot and Mia take care of Anastasia.

Lunch was pleasant, especially the moments when I stole glances at my brunette. After our discussion of trying something new for the weekend, Anastasia and I are officially friends.

Sawyer and I deliver her to Puget Press for the three o'clock interview. She's nervous, but seems well-prepared. In her plum dress, Anastasia is modestly attired, but alluring and sexy.

Sawyer helps Anastasia out of the car and escorts her to the front door. When he returns I instruct him to head for the Tiffany store at Pacific Place.

On the way to Puget Press, Anastasia told me she doesn't care much about fashion, and truly loathes shopping. Apparently Katherine assists her with wardrobe choices.

I'm anxious to see Anastasia in the new clothes that Caroline Acton is helping Katherine and Mia select. I told Mia to make sure the girls get hiking boots and clothes for the chilly spring weather, and to include sleepwear, lingerie, and anything else that she or Katherine thinks the girls may need.

I hope they remember bikinis for Anastasia to wear in the hot tub. I look forward to an opportunity to check out the goods. I bet her ass is divine.

Anastasia is attracted to me, and perhaps I could get her alone in the hot tub, brush up against her with my hard dick, and pull her onto my lap, her back to my front. She wouldn't be able to touch me, and I could reach my hands up to her breasts...

Shit. My fantasy is interrupted by a phone call.

"Grey."

"For heaven's sake, Christian, you know it's me. I don't know why you always answer your phone so abruptly, darling, when you know it's me."

"What do you want, Elena?" She broke me away from thoughts of Anastasia's assets, so this better be good.

"Since you don't currently have a contract, I thought we might get together for dinner this weekend. Your club or maybe Jacques on Fourth? There's also that hot new Moroccan place."

"Sorry, but I'm heading out to Montana for the weekend. It's Mother's Day and Dad's planned a family weekend for Mother and Grandmother. Mia is back from Paris, but Mother doesn't know yet. The whole weekend is a surprise."

"Grace will be thrilled. Your attendance should be as much of a surprise for her as Mia's return."

"Yes, Mother will surely be overjoyed at having all three of her children together. Elliot has planned a special hike and other activities, so I won't be able to get much work done, but this weekend is about Mother's Day and Mia coming back home."

No way am I divulging any information about Anastasia and Katherine joining us for the weekend.

"What's going on with you, Christian? You haven't had a girl since Susannah, and that's been at least three months. I know what you need."

In the past Elena has known what I need, whether money or brunettes, and she has provided it. I think back to the loan Elena gave me when I began my business, and the trust I place in her to find submissives for me. Elena has been as influential to me as my parents. Through my teenage submission to Elena, I gained confidence and control. She knows me better than anyone. Elena knows my strengths, my weaknesses, my sexual preferences, and my personal demons.

Flynn is forever attempting to delve more deeply into my friendship with Elena, but I find her the most difficult topic to discuss. Though he doesn't come out and say it, I sense his disapproval of my relationship with her.

"How would you know when I last had a girl? True, I don't have a contract, but I've been to several clubs since Susannah. New York, Dallas, Miami, San Diego, Portland. I've been traveling a great deal…Don't talk shit about what you don't know."

While I did visit clubs in each of those cities, Elena doesn't need to know the details. I only had a couple of drinks and watched a scene or two. I looked, but didn't find anyone to my liking. As the years go by, I find myself becoming more and more particular.

"Darling, this is so unlike you to get testy with me. You know I care about you. I'm your very best friend. I'm here for you, and I'll find the right girl."

Elena is not only my best friend. She's my only friend. I hope to change things by gaining a new friend or two, possibly beginning with Anastasia. With John's help, it's one of the goals I've set. He's been harping about it for over a year, but if I'm honest with myself, I haven't taken my therapy goals seriously. However, since my mother expressed her concerns at brunch, I've met with John twice this week, on Monday and again yesterday.

Because I value my history and connection with Elena, I don't want to end my friendship with her. I simply want to loosen my ties. If I wish to distance myself, Flynn says I need new friends.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not shopping for a sub right now. I appreciate you looking out for me, but I'm extremely busy with work, and for the time being, clubs are my preferred outlet. I enjoy the options and variety. Sorry to cut this short, but I've got to make some calls and I have a meeting before we depart for SEATAC. Have a good weekend, Elena."

The meeting is a lie, and it was rude of me to cut her off, but Elena was irritating me.

Immediately after I hang up, my phone pings. Welch has the girls' background checks. First up is Katherine's and there's no news there, other than some sealed juvenile records. It seems Miss Kavanagh has her own secrets. What I wouldn't give to know what's in her file. Eamon Kavanagh has a bevy of attorneys at his disposal, and I'm sure he believes her record is hidden. Nothing gets past my security, and that's why I pay my people very well.

I have my own sealed juvie records, and I know all about being a troubled teen. I drank and brawled constantly. When I was fifteen I beat a mother fucker of a classmate within an inch of his life. The asshole was a big-mouthed bully and he deserved every punch.

I pled guilty. Dad worked a deal. I received probation and community service, which I served at a downtown soup kitchen. It helps to have a top notch attorney for a dad, someone with friends in the right places. My records have been expunged. Both Dad and Welch assure me there's no way to unearth any of that shit.

From their reports, it's clear Anastasia and Katherine each possess an outstanding work ethic. Both are full-time students with excellent academic records. Katherine is involved in many extracurricular activities, with her newspaper editorship alone taking at least twenty hours a week. Anastasia works long hours at Clayton's Hardware in Portland.

Anastasia Rose Steele…what a lovely name for a lovely girl. Anastasia's background check is squeaky clean, not even a parking ticket. With only one bank account, she wasn't kidding when she said she didn't have money for Montana. The girl only has $683 to her name. She has some outstanding student loans, but they only total a little over five grand, impressive considering her lack of funds. She's been at Clayton's for four years, so she's enjoyed a small, but steady, source of income.

No political or religious affiliations are listed and no relationships. I have a hard time believing a beautiful girl like Anastasia hasn't had a boyfriend. Maybe a girlfriend? No, she told me she found me attractive, and she seems responsive to me. The touches we've shared have been electric, a first for me.

Anastasia's mother has certainly been busy—four marriages indeed. Based on this report, it's difficult not to conclude that her mother is an irresponsible flake, flitting from marriage to marriage. Of course, Grace sets a high bar, and in any comparison of mothers, my adoptive mother always wins.

We're just pulling up to the Tiffany store at Pacific Place, when my phone pings with a text from the lovely Miss Steele. Her interview didn't take long.

 **Interview complete. Am at Lucette next to Puget Press. Shopping. Need rescue.**

She's shopping? Why? I direct Sawyer back to Puget Press. We'll return to Tiffany after picking up Anastasia.

Sawyer pulls up to Lucette, a small boutique, two doors down from Puget Press. I exit and Sawyer circles, seeking a place to park. I find Anastasia on the phone, apparently conferring with Katherine.

A tall, slender, dark-haired sales clerk taps her foot impatiently while waiting for Anastasia to complete her call. Anastasia is faced away from me and unaware of my arrival. The shop girl gives me the once over. I see recognition register on her face as she realizes who I am.

"I think tea might make a good Mother's Day gift. I found a backgammon set for a hostess gift, or there are some lovely candles. Any preference? The only thing is the backgammon set is a bit pricier than the candle…Yes…We're splitting the costs, Kate, and I don't want to argue about it…No, he's not here or I'd ask him. Is Mia handy? Because girls know more about such things...Where's Elliot?...Why is he looking at lingerie? Oh, wait a minute. Christian just arrived. I'll ask him to help me…Love you, too."

"Well, have you made your selection yet?" The sales girl has her hands on her hips. Her tone is pushy and supercilious.

"I need input from my friend, so I guess the answer is no, I haven't decided on anything yet."

She referred to me as her friend. This pleases me greatly.

"Anastasia, I thought you hated shopping. What brought you in here?"

"Please. Call me Ana. Kate and I want a hostess gift for your parents, and Mother's Day gifts for your mother and grandmother. Kate's still busy with the clothes, so she tasked me. I need your opinion."

Anastasia takes me by the hand, and leads me to a counter where she has assembled her choices. I feel the energy between us when we touch, and when she releases my hand, I feel bereft.

"Do your mother and grandmother drink tea?"

"Yes, they enjoy a good cup of tea."

"Oh, perfect! What do you think about these packages of "Chocolate and Roses" tea? Each box has two jars, one of chocolate blended with black tea, and the other is rose petals blended with white tea."

"Sounds fine to me, Anastasia."

With a sigh of relief, she picks up a candle in one hand and an attractive wood-carved backgammon set in the other.

"Do your parents have a backgammon set in Montana? And please call me Ana."

"I like using your full name. It's lovely and it suits you." Anastasia blushes. The deep pink adds to her considerable allure. "I've never seen a backgammon set at the Montana house, but that doesn't mean they don't have one. Are you considering one of those candles as an alternative?"

I overheard Anastasia saying the backgammon set was more expensive than a candle. Does she worry about money?

"Yes, these both smell divine." She holds them up so I can compare them. "Which do you prefer?"

I'd prefer a whiff of Anastasia, but that's not an option. I'm surprised at how comfortable I am. Shopping with this girl is a very pleasant activity.

"This one, I think. The wild fig and cassis. Get this one. It's Jo Malone, and I know my mother likes that brand."

"Thank you, Christian. I was a little stressed, and you solved my problem."

I'm rewarded with a sweet smile, and I feel proud to have relieved Anastasia's stress. There are lots of ways I can help this beauty relieve stress, but I wonder if there's a chance she might ever be receptive. Is there a way I can be her friend and fuck her at the same time?

Anastasia takes the two boxes of tea and the candle to the sales clerk.

"Do you gift wrap?"

"Yes, for an additional charge." Did that sales clerk just roll her eyes at Anastasia?

"Fabulous. I need these gift wrapped, please. The teas are Mother's Day gifts and I would like them wrapped identically. I'd like the candle wrapped differently from the teas, if that's an option." The clerk nods. "Thank you. While you wrap, I'll choose some greeting cards."

I hear a huff from the sales clerk as Anastasia walks away.

"Anastasia, I'll wait here while you get your cards." My beautiful friend nods and walks to the card display at the other side of the shop.

I turn to the sales clerk.

"Hello, my name is Christian Grey. What's your name?" She already knows who I am, but I want to make a point.

She peeks up from her wrapping job with a coy smile. Does she seriously believe I'm about to hit on her?

"Gemma. Gemma Bouchard."

"Miss Bouchard, did you receive training when you took this job?"

She hesitates, unsure where the conversation is headed.

"Um, yes, the owner herself trained me."

"Did she now? Did your boss, the owner, instruct you to roll your eyes at customers and display a haughty attitude?"

"No, of course not."

"I thought that might be the case. When my friend comes back over here to settle up, you'll apologize for your bad attitude. I don't like to see anyone treated poorly by sales clerks, but I especially don't like it when my friends are treated badly. Do we understand each other?"

Miss Bouchard breaks eye contact, and grimaces. She sets to work wrapping the teas in pink paper and the candle in mint green, adding white ribbons to each.

Anastasia shows me the cards she selected. They're blank inside, so she and Katherine can create their own messages.

While we wait for the gift wrapping, Anastasia and I stroll through the store.

There are samples of personalized gifts that can be special ordered. We see necklaces, bracelets, key rings, and paperweights. Anastasia is captivated by castings of fingerprints, pet paws, and pet noses. Latitude and longitude coordinates can be engraved to commemorate a special place. Anastasia oohs and ahs over all the sentimental possibilities.

Yes, this girl is definitely hearts and flowers.

Suddenly, I hear Anastasia gasp.

"Oh, that is the sweetest thing."

Her fingers caress a round silver disk personalized with a miniature of newborn baby footprints. The reverse side of the disk is for the baby's name and birthdate.

"That's the perfect gift for a new mother. I'm going to remember this when Kate has a baby."

"Katherine is planning a child?" Should I warn Elliot?

Anastasia giggles and it's music to my ears.

"Not until she's married. Not any time in the near future. But one day she hopes to have a family."

"And you don't?"

She giggles again, and it's a chorus of angels.

"It's not something I think about, but maybe one day. Having been an only child, if I decide to procreate, I'll certainly try to have more than one. It's lonely not having siblings. And you? Do you want a family of your own?"

"I already have a family. Mother, Father, Elliot, Mia."

I don't like being asked such deeply personal questions.

As if reading my mind, Anastasia softly brushes a finger across my wrist, and whispers, "You asked me, so I felt I could ask you."

She's right, of course. I shouldn't ask questions of her, that I'm unwilling to answer myself.

The surly clerk has the packages wrapped and bagged.

"The total is $193.12." I know how much money Anastasia has in her account, and even if she splits the tab with Katherine, how will she manage until the end of the month?

Anastasia hands over her debit card, and Ms. Bouchard reads the name on it.

"Miss Steele, I'm very sorry if I seemed impatient earlier or made you feel rushed. Please accept my apology."

Anastasia looks shocked. "What's your name?"

"Gemma."

"Of course, I'll accept your apology, Gemma. Thank you for your assistance and the lovely gift wrapping. I appreciate it very much. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon."

I take the bag in one hand and Anastasia's hand in the other. Anastasia smiles broadly as we walk out the door.

"Christian, did you have anything to do with that clerk apologizing to me?"

"Perhaps. You're my friend, Anastasia. When I'm around, you will never endure poor treatment. Come, it's your turn to help me shop."

 **Anastasia**

Christian took my hand in his. He held it for mere seconds, but it sent a thrill to my heart. I can't get over the strength of my attraction for him.

When we exit Lucette, Sawyer is ready for us, pulled up curbside with the door to the back seat open. I enter first, trying to slide gracefully across the seat to take the right side. Christian pulls in behind me and when I glance back at him, his eyes are fixed on my backside, watching me clamber across the seat.

Definitely not gay _._

"How was the interview?"

"Unfortunately, I got the distinct impression Puget Press and I wouldn't be a good fit. The two interviewers didn't seem very impressed. One of them called my resume 'threadbare.' They didn't spend much time with me, and I picked up a negative vibe. Kate told me not to worry about it. Papa K has some ideas for me."

"Papa K?"

"Kate's dad. The Kavanaghs have sort of adopted me. I call them Mama and Papa K."

"Oh. What sort of ideas does Eamon have for you?"

"I'm not sure, but he got Kate the internship at the Times. He says if the publishing houses don't work out, he can find something suitable for me through Kavanagh Media."

"You could always come work for me at Grey House. GEH has an excellent internship program."

I have to giggle at the thought of working for Christian. I'd never get any work done thinking about his fine form. I'd be forever hoping to run into him, plotting like an idiot, trying to accidentally on purpose take the elevator with him.

"Christian, I don't think that would be a good idea."

I can't tell whether he is offended, hurt, or both.

"Why not? What's wrong with my company?"

"GEH seems like a wonderful place to work, Christian. I just don't think I'd fit in. I'd need to change my hair color, and I don't think I'd look good as a blonde."

I let out another nervous giggle. I really need to get myself under control. I'm acting like a silly schoolgirl around Christian.

"You'd fit in perfectly, Anastasia. And don't you dare change your hair color." His voice is deep and low, just above a whisper.

I get so lost in Christian's gray eyes, I don't realize Sawyer has pulled to a stop.

"Mr. Grey, we've arrived at Pacific Place."

"Anastasia, wait for Sawyer to open the door for you. I'll slide out behind you. You can leave your bag. Sawyer will stay with the car, so your things will be safe."

It will be nice to have my arms and hands free, so I elect to leave my satchel in the car. As we exit the car, Christian takes my hand. Once again, it's a thrill to have my hand in his. I've never held hands like this with a boy, even José, and it feels sweet, intimate.

Christian drops my hand at the store entrance, and places his right hand at the small of my back. He leads me toward the rear of the store, and a man in his mid-to-late 40s greets us.

"Good afternoon. Mr. Grey, what can I help you with today?"

"Hello, Delancey. I'm Mother's Day shopping. I think I'll look around for a few minutes."

"Very well, sir. I'm happy to offer gift suggestions."

"Thank you. If I need help, I'll let you know." Christian coldly dismisses Mr. Delancey.

"What are you looking for, Christian? Did you have something specific in mind?" I hate shopping, but I want to be helpful.

"I already have my grandmother's gift, but I need something for my mother. I'm open to your suggestions."

"What did you get your grandmother?"

"I arranged a private luncheon with Itzhak Perlman. My grandmother is a huge fan and has always wanted to meet him. He'll be visiting the Seattle Symphony as a guest conductor and soloist. I hope she'll be happily surprised."

"That sounds like the perfect gift for her."

"I wish I could say it was my idea, but Mia came up with it."

"Since I've never met your mom, tell me about her, and we can find the perfect gift for her as well."

"My mother is very elegant and always put together. She's very kind and enjoys helping others."

His mom sounds wonderful. I look forward to meeting her.

"How much do you want to spend?" Even billionaires have budgets, right?

"Money is no object when it comes to my family." Whoa. No budget for Mr. Grey.

"Does she wear white gold, rose gold, or yellow gold?"

"She wears them all. Sometimes she mixes metals, and sometimes she wears all platinum or all yellow gold."

"What message do you want the gift to convey?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"The best gifts have a great deal of thought behind them, like the gift you got your grandmother. You want your mother to know you love and appreciate her, but also understand her as a person, separate from being your mother. What is most important to your mother?"

"The single most important thing to Grace Trevelyan-Grey is her family."

"Okay, let's go find that in gift form."

Christian is looking at some fancy pink diamonds, but those seem too over the top for Mother's Day. Then again, what do I know about billionaires and their mothers?

I come across a $250 copper shoe horn, and almost laugh out loud. Thank you very much, but I'll keep the plastic one I got free at the grand opening of Shoe Carnival.

Then I see something that looks perfect to me. I want to bring Christian over to the display case, but suddenly feel shy, unsure of myself. Oh, screw it, I think I have good taste. If Christian doesn't think so, then it's just a difference of opinion, nothing to take personally.

Christian is about ten feet from me, but the store is so quiet that I'm afraid to make any noise. I walk up behind him, and wanting to get his attention, I whisper his name. He doesn't respond. I move closer, but the toe of my left shoe catches on a seam in the carpet, and I feel myself falling. I reflexively reach out to grab Christian, and in the process, I fall against his back. As soon as I make contact, he startles and swings around red-faced. I pull myself upright, mortified at my clumsiness.

"What the hell are you doing?" Christian hisses angrily, "Don't ever touch me!"

Tears spring to my eyes, but I manage to hold them back. I'm embarrassed, but also relieved, because I don't think anyone saw our interaction. I thought we were getting along well, and now he's furious with me.

"I'm so sorry, Christian. It was an accident. I was falling and I reached out. Please forgive me."

"I accept your apology, but don't ever touch my chest or my back. I can't tolerate it."

"I don't understand, Christian."

"You don't need to understand. I can't be touched on my chest or back. It's not just you. It's everyone, my family included."

"I see."

I didn't mean to hurt Christian. I get it. He has issues. But does he have to act like such a jerk? I will myself not to cry.

I step back a couple of feet. Maybe he needs space. Christian is cold and silent. His hands fist his hair, tugging at it with ferocity. I need to change the mood. In the cheeriest voice I can possibly manage, I break the silence.

"I found something you might like, and I want to show you."

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine. Lead the way."

Gently and slowly, I take Christian's hand and pull him toward me.

I find the piece and point down to it.

It's a brooch, 18k yellow gold. The design is composed of three leaves, which rest on two branches.

"When I saw this, I thought of your family. The leaves represent you, Mia, and Elliot. The supporting branches intersect and represent your parents."

I half expect him to laugh at me, but he's quiet, pensive.

"It's a piece that could be worn every day, clipped to a winter coat, or on a blazer with slacks, or even with jeans. What do you think?"

He's pondering this, and I feel the need to further sell him on the idea.

"On a simple sheath, it would look very Audrey Hepburn or Jackie O."

At last Christian speaks, and I brace myself, prepared to receive critical commentary regarding my plebeian tastes.

"I like it very much. Thank you for finding this. It's perfect."

Christian's voice is warm and deep, and he looks at me appreciatively.

After falling into him, and witnessing the Christian Grey temper, I'm beyond surprised to find my gift suggestion has been well received.

"You're welcome."

And just like that, things seem to be back to normal between us. Christian is so mercurial. He's giving me whiplash.

Christian strides off to find Mr. Delancey, leaving me to wander the display cases, looking at things I don't need and will never own.

A short time later, he returns. The brooch has been wrapped in Tiffany blue, and we head back to the car, where Sawyer is faithfully waiting.

It's the beginning of rush hour. Traffic is beastly this time of day, and it seems everyone is headed to SEATAC with us. While Christian checks messages on his phone, my phone pings with a text from Kate.

 **You should see the mogul's jet. Nice! Hope to sit next to E the whole way.**

"Kate just texted from SEATAC. I'll let her know we're on our way."

 **Almost there. See you soon. You don't want to sit next to me? ; )**

Kate's response is almost immediate, and I laugh out loud at my smitten friend.

 **Sorry, Babe. This is one time when it's dicks B4 chicks. Luv U. Mean it.**

"From your response, I guess Katherine must have had something humorous to say."

Confident that Kate wouldn't object, I lean over and show Christian the text exchange. He laughs heartily.

"Thank you for showing me that. People don't usually share with me." I feel Christian's hand graze my knee, and I shiver. Was that a deliberate touch? "If Katherine sits with Elliot, would you like to sit with me?"

"Yes, that would be lovely. We could get to know each other better. I'm looking forward to getting on your plane, and taking these shoes off. I'm not used to wearing heels."

"Looks like we're stuck in a bit of traffic. I think there's time to give you a quick foot massage."

Oh, my God, that sounds wonderfully decadent. Christian is smirking, his upper lip curled and one corner of his mouth turned up.

"That would be heavenly. I've never had any kind of massage before, much less a foot massage."

"Let's pop those shoes off." Christian has the sexiest grin.

I hesitate. After being on my feet for hours, I don't think I want Christian touching them.

"Christian, my feet have been cooped up in these stilettos since 6 am, and my feet are very… sweaty."

"Anastasia, once you get to know me, you'll realize I'm not put off by normal bodily functions." What does he mean by that? "You're beet red. Don't overthink what I say to you. In the fullness of time, perhaps you'll understand exactly what I mean."

 _In the fullness of time…_ OMG, he makes that sound so sexy.

"Why do you always use my full name? It's Ana. Just Ana. When you call me Anastasia, I feel I'm about to be chastised."

"Anastasia is a beautiful name for a beautiful girl." Now he's full on flirting? I don't understand this man at all.

"My mother would love you for saying that, Mr. Grey. She's very proud of my name. Yes, I think my mother would adore you."

"Only your mother? Her daughter could never have affection for me?"

"The verdict is out on that. The daughter needs to get better acquainted with you."

I'm trying my best to get my flirt on, and I feel like a complete failure. Kate would know exactly what to say right now.

Speaking in a whisper, Christian leans sideways toward me.

"Maybe she can do that this weekend. What do you think, Ana?" At long last Christian calls me Ana!

"I think that can be arranged, Mr. Grey."

"Excellent, because I would hate to think my appeal is limited only to your mother. Let's take off those heels. I know they're bothering you."

 **Christian**

I reach down to remove her shoes, and in the process I run my fingers over her right ankle. I discover she's wearing sheer nude stockings. I slip off the heels, laying them on the floorboard. My imagination runs wild. What's she wearing under that dress? Is a garter belt holding up those stockings?

"Stockings, Miss Steele?" I pull her close and whisper in her ear.

"Yes, Mr. Grey." She whispers back.

"Tell me about them."

"What do you mean?" She furrows her brow in confusion.

"Are you wearing pantyhose or a garter belt?"

"Neither." Her voice quivers ever so slightly.

"Neither?"

"Thigh highs."

"Describe them."

Anastasia hesitates. "Umm…they have lace tops…I'm short…so the lace tops brush the, umm, apex of my inner…thighs. Is that what you want to know?" Anastasia's breathing is becoming labored. I'm affecting her, and I like it.

"Yes, Miss Steele, that's exactly what I want to hear." My breathing has accelerated, and my pants are quite uncomfortable.

"What color are your panties?"

"Oh…my…God…I've heard about this, but I've never had a conversation like this." Anastasia's voice is high, light, and breathy.

She might be surprised to learn I've never had a conversation like this either.

"Does it feel wrong?"

"Yes…but I kinda like it…is that weird?" Anastasia is so honest. It's refreshing.

"Go with what you like, Miss Steele. Now, back to the topic at hand. What color are your panties?"

"Nude…lace…thong." She doesn't stop with color, but decides to give me a more complete visual. Nice.

"Tell me about your bra."

Anastasia blushes brightly. "Can Sawyer hear what we're saying?"

"No, Miss Steele. He's concentrating on driving. The car engine and radio are masking our noise, and I'm whispering into your ear. Relax. Tell me about your bra."

"It matches my panties…nude…lace…sheer cups."

"You are quite alluring, Anastasia. The most alluring woman I've ever met, and I've known many beautiful women. Now turn your body toward me and put your feet in my lap. Close your eyes and relax."

Anastasia does as she is told. She moans as I flex her feet, press through the stockings, and knead the balls of her feet. I massage each pink polished toe, wishing I could suck them, and send more pleasure her way.

"Ahhh, Christian, this feels heavenly. Do you like feet?" What kind of question is that?

"What do you mean, Anastasia? I don't have a foot fetish, if that's what you're asking. I can unequivocally say that I like your feet. You have lovely feet."

"Thank you, Christian, no one has ever complimented my feet before. And the massage has been wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome. If we had more time, I'd be trying to get those stockings off."

"If we had more time, I'd let you take them off."

Holy shit! Is she giving me the green light to disrobe her? How do I negotiate sexual activity while being in the moment? I've never been in a situation like this.

I've never wanted a woman as much as I do this very minute. My cock is rock hard with need and desire.

The timing absolutely sucks. If only we weren't in the car, getting ready to board a plane with my family.

Is Anastasia leading me on? I've heard of prick teases, but never having been in an uncontrolled environment with a woman, I'm unsure as to how things work.

"There's the exit sign for SEATAC, so I better put my shoes back on." Anastasia peeks up at me shyly through her long lashes.

I've never flirted before. Having only had contracted submissives, I've never had to seduce a woman. I don't have a clue if I'm doing it correctly, but by God, I am going to try something new this weekend.

It's my weekend of living dangerously. No contract.

My palms sweat at the mere idea.

After Mia invited the girls to Montana, my initial goal was to make a friend. I want the beautiful Anastasia to be my friend, but I'm so attracted to her that I wonder if I could make her my girlfriend for the weekend. Do people do that? A weekend girlfriend? Or would that be called a hookup? In any case, I believe I'll do my own thing and see where this goes.

Sawyer takes the exit to SEATAC, and we're less than five minutes from where my jet is parked.

"Ana, we're almost there. Elliot texted to let me know everyone is already onboard waiting for us. Elliot and Mia have kept the two of us a secret. My dad knows I'm coming, but I will be a surprise to my mother and grandparents. You're completely unexpected, so you will be the biggest surprise of all."

"Are you sure they'll be okay with me coming? And why would your arrival be a surprise to anyone? You're their son, for goodness sake."

I'm not sure how Anastasia will be received, but I don't want her walking into the weekend with her confidence flagging.

"Anastasia, my family will be thrilled to meet you. I've never introduced a friend before, much less a friend who is a girl. They'll be shocked and awed. And they'll be a bit surprised to see me, because I work long hours, and don't get to see my family as much as I'd like."

"It's actually true? You've really never brought a friend or a girl around?"

"No." I wink at Anastasia and whisper in her ear. "That's why they think I'm gay."

"Oh." She's studying my face. I hope she likes what she sees. "So exactly who will be on this trip?"

"There are eleven of us: my parents, my mother's parents, Mia, Elliot, Katherine, you, me. Plus Sawyer and Reynolds. Security."

"Security? Whatever for? I thought your parents' house was out in the middle of nowhere."

"Anastasia, because I have money, there are constant threats against my life, and threats against my family. I'm also young, single, and not ugly, so there are crazies out there who want to have their way with me." I waggle my eyebrows at her, trying to make a joke. I'm rewarded with Anastasia's lilting laughter. And people say I have no sense of humor. Well, newsflash, this girl seems to actually find me amusing.

"You live a complicated life."

Yes, my life is complicated. Everything comes with a price, even wealth.

"Here we go, Mr. Grey," Sawyer pipes up. "All the luggage has been loaded up. Everyone is onboard. I'll park and return in five."

I jump out and help Anastasia from the car. She takes my hand and I feel that jolt of energy run through me.

"Wow, door to door service. Your plane is quite impressive."

Anastasia goes up the ladder ahead of me, giving me a fantastic view of her ass. Being around her all weekend will prove excruciatingly difficult.

"Here we are, Anastasia. Let's greet the folks."


	6. Teenage Dream

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Teenage Dream**

 **Thursday, May 5, 2011**

 **Christian**

We board the jet unnoticed. Mia and Elliot are engaged in loud banter and all attention is on them. As we stand at the cabin entrance, I'm thankful Anastasia and I have a moment to get our bearings.

Grandfather is the first to see us.

"Well, well, what have we here? Christian, my boy, you are full of surprises."

Suddenly there is silence. Complete, total, utter silence. I stand behind Anastasia with my right arm around her waist.

Mia grins gleefully, bouncing up and down on her toes, as she stands next to Elliot's seat. Elliot leans forward, elbows on knees, the way he does while watching a crucial play during the fourth quarter of a Seahawks game. Apparently, Anastasia and I are their entertainment.

"I'd like to introduce my friend, Anastasia Steele. Anastasia, I'd like you to meet my parents, Grace and Carrick Grey, and my grandparents, Margaret and Theodore Trevelyan."

Anastasia speaks first.

"It's very nice to meet you. Thank you for including Kate and me in your family plans." She extends her hand to my mother, who is closest in proximity.

Dad rises first. Mother practically leaps from her seat. She grabs Anastasia's hand and pulls my brunette into a hug.

"Oh, Anastasia, it's our pleasure! What a lovely surprise!" Mother looks back and forth between Anastasia and me as if she can't believe her eyes.

"Please call me Ana. Christian is the only friend who calls me Anastasia. Everyone else calls me Ana."

"How sweet! Only Christian calls you Anastasia. Isn't that adorable, Theo?" Grandmother is pleased.

"Adorable is exactly the descriptor I was looking for." Grandfather rolls his eyes and winks at me.

Dad is stunned, but quickly composes himself. "This is quite the surprise. Anastasia, thank you for joining us this weekend."

Grandfather rises gingerly. His arthritis must be acting up. Anastasia recognizes his difficulty, and takes the necessary steps to get closer to my grandparents. She offers her hand to Grandmother, who exclaims, "You are so pretty. You and Christian will make beautiful babies."

I wince and glance at Anastasia, who blushes vermillion. She probably wants to run for the hills.

"Jesus, Margaret, you can't go around saying whatever pops in your head. I apologize for my sweet wife, Anastasia, though I must admit, she speaks only the truth." Grandfather kisses the back of Anastasia's hand. "Welcome to the family, my dear."

Dad, the inquisitor, decides he needs to know more about my girl.

"You know Kate?"

"Yes, Kate and I are roommates and best friends. Did Kate tell you? We're graduating from WSU-V in two weeks."

"Kate told us about graduation, but didn't mention a roommate. I suppose it was my sons' idea to keep you girls a secret?"

Ana giggles. "I can't pretend to have a clue as to how your sons' brains function. You'd have to ask them."

Kate jumps up to put her arm around Anastasia.

"Would you all like to hear how Ana and I met Elliot and Christian?"

All eyes are on the two girls.

"Please, do tell." Mother is about to implode with need for information.

"I'm editor of the university paper. After harassing Christian for several months, I was granted an interview. While I was conducting Christian's interview, Ana had a job interview nearby. She finished up early, came to meet me at Grey House, and literally stumbled into Elliot, who was there to take Christian to lunch."

Elliot's eyes are riveted on the Kavanagh girl. His pride and admiration for her are evident. Interesting.

Anastasia smiles at Elliot and jumps into the story.

"Elliot and I became fast friends. I shared photos of Kate from my phone, and he was smitten, insisting on an immediate introduction. I'm Kate's gatekeeper, so he had to charm me sufficiently in order to get what he wanted. Clearly it worked."

"Ana, you didn't tell me that. Aw, Elliot, you knew you liked me just from photographs?"

"Yes, the pics and Ana's description of you. Ana Banana and I became buddies, and I knew if you were best friends with Banana, you'd be trustworthy. While she and I were chatting, I realized you were upstairs interviewing Christian."

Katherine beams at Elliot.

"Life is made up of such extraordinary twists and turns. If Ana hadn't fallen and you hadn't been there, would we have met?"

Mother and Grandmother are entranced, and hang on every word, as Katherine continues her story.

"When Elliot waltzed in with Ana, suddenly the interview was over. Elliot and Christian invited us to lunch. We all hit it off. And that's the story of how we got to this moment."

Mia, Mother, and Grandmother prattle over Katherine's story, and they can't stop.

"Kismet."

"It's meant to be."

"Like an old Hollywood movie."

Sawyer approaches, with Reynolds right behind him.

"Mr. Grey, Stephan says we'll roll in a couple of minutes. Everyone needs to strap in."

Thank fuck. I can't listen to much more.

Loudly, I repeat Sawyer's instructions from my pilot.

"Did everyone hear? We need to get seated and buckle up."

My jet is a Gulfstream 550. The 550 is designed to seat nineteen, but because I had mine custom configured with a sleeping cabin, this one only seats twelve, plus a jump seat for a flight attendant. There are eleven of us. This means Anastasia and I can take the sofa, which is designed for three. I want her all to myself, and I want her to relax, stretch out, put her feet up.

Anastasia studies me, as I remove my tie and suit jacket. I roll up the silver tie and slip it into a pocket of the jacket. I hand the jacket off to Natalia, the flight attendant, and roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt in an attempt to get comfortable.

The sofa is mid-cabin, open to everyone's view. There's no privacy. Across the aisle from the sofa are two deep, comfortable leather chairs facing each other with a table between them. My parents take those seats, securing themselves a front row view to any interactions between Anastasia and me. I dig between the seats and find the seat belt buckles, strapping us both in securely.

Natalia took drink orders from the others before Anastasia and I boarded. Natalia is an attractive brunette, but she's too tall and large boned for my tastes. She also flirts aggressively, a huge turn off for me. In addition, I make it my policy to never fuck staff, so Natalia's attentions will never yield results. She quickly and efficiently comes back for our orders. Anastasia wants water and I elect to have the same.

As the jet hurtles down the runway, my beauty grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Is something wrong, Anastasia?"

"I've only flown a couple of times. I get frightened at take offs and landings, because I've read those are the most dangerous moments during flight."

"You're safe, Anastasia. Take my hand whenever you need it." I look down at her lovely visage and feel an overwhelming desire to protect her. "This is a short flight, only an hour and a half. We'll arrive around 7:30 Mountain Time. When Stephan gives the all clear, I'll give you the two-minute cabin tour."

Ana bends down and slips off the chocolate brown Louboutins. The visual reminds me of the foot massage and conversation in the car.

I want her, and I want her badly.

"Seat belt signs be damned. I need to give you that tour. Now." I undo our seatbelts. Mother and Dad study us, but I have no intention of ever explaining myself to them.

I take Anastasia's hand, leading her to the back of the cabin. I slide open the door to the sleeping compartment, revealing a double bed. I allow Anastasia to walk through first, and then follow, locking the door behind me.

For a few seconds Anastasia and I take each other in, eyes locked in a mesmerizing stare. I'm acutely aware of the sound of our breathing. Her scent is a siren call. Apples and vanilla and Ana.

I am hard.

I want her.

I must have her.

"Don't touch my chest or my back."

"Okay."

I grab her shoulders and gently push her up against the cabin door, pressing my mouth to hers. I try pinning her arms above her head so she can't touch me, but she pulls away, having none of it.

"I told you. I won't touch your chest or back."

She's expecting me to trust her. If I want her, I've no choice but to momentarily yield some control.

This is a first for me. A perilous, frightening, stirring first.

The heat in the tiny room is overwhelming. We're of one mind, one purpose, as our lips and bodies meld together.

Anastasia moans into my mouth. Her hands are in my hair, pulling and twisting, creating the perfect blend of pain and pleasure. I pull her chin up, deepening the kiss, my tongue plundering her mouth. She kisses me back, groaning and sucking my tongue. I grind my erection into her, seeking relief. Anastasia grabs my buttocks and wantonly pulls me to her.

My God! This is unlike anything I have ever experienced.

"You. Are. So. Sweet." I hear myself groan loudly. I want to be inside her. I reach behind her and pull her zipper. She doesn't object. In this position, I can only unzip a few inches.

"Turn around." She complies and I quickly free her of the dress. A heap of plum fabric falls to the floor. Sweet Jesus. Her breasts are plump and perfect, almost falling out of the sheer, lacy demi-cups.

"I want you."

"I want you, too. Take off your pants."

I toe off my shoes and unbuckle my belt. Anastasia unbuttons my pants, pulls my zipper down, and yanks the belt through the loops. I hear the clank and clatter of my belt, just before she pushes my pants off my hips. I kick my way out of the pant legs, never taking my mouth off hers. I reach down to remove the briefs.

"Leave your underwear on," Anastasia commands.

"What! Why? I want to fuck you!"

"Leave your underwear on."

She bosses me, and I obey.

Anastasia grabs my biceps, pushing me onto the bed. Reaching down with one small fumbling hand, she finds my cock and gently rubs. Even through the knit fabric, her touch is electric, feeding my hunger for her.

I knead her bare ass cheeks and squeeze her tits. She's perfection.

It's blazing in the confined space of this tiny compartment, and I wish I were brave enough to take my shirt off. I feel a surge of affection for Anastasia and her understanding of my limitations.

"You are perfection. You are mine. Mine."

I run my hands over her slim shoulders, and relish in the feel of her hands as they roam the surface of my underwear.

"Pull my cock out. Stroke me." I need some relief and I need it now.

"No."

"No?!" She's refusing me. In my world, this has never happened before.

"No. Don't stop kissing me. Your tongue…in my mouth…amazing."

Jesus, she's so demanding. And for some reason this turns me the fuck on.

I try pushing her thong aside to insert my fingers.

"No."

I reach behind her to unfasten her bra.

"No, please don't."

What the hell! I require at least a modicum of control, and I roll us over, so I can feel her beneath me.

I pull a bra strap down far enough to free a breast. I knead and roll the nipple between my fingers. Anastasia's back arches in response and she groans in pleasure.

We rut like wild animals, never breaking our passionate kisses. Holy shit, is this making out? Is it dry humping? Yes! I do believe that's what we're doing. We are making out and dry humping like teenagers.

It's absolutely thrilling.

Anastasia gasps and moans against my mouth.

"Chrisss-chun. Feeeeels. Soooo. Goood."

She squeezes my ass cheeks harder, digging her nails into me. It's a new sensation for me, and it's pure bliss. Anastasia makes soft mewling noises, rubbing herself against me with accelerated vigor.

She's beautiful. Holy fuck. Her face is bathed in pure rapture. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I dry fuck the hell out of her, my erection rubbing and stabbing against her through her underwear and mine.

"Chrisss-chun!" She grunts out my name again, and it's my undoing.

I come quickly, like a thirteen-year-old, calling out her name and a string of garbled expletives, while making a sticky, adolescent mess in my underwear.

I can't believe what just happened.

That shit was hot. Unexpected and so fucking hot.

I roll off her slowly and pull her into my side. It takes a couple of minutes for our breathing to slow to normal. Anastasia is glowing.

Her right hand rests lightly on my thigh, and she draws small circles on it with her thumb. It's another new sensation.

"Oh, my God, what was that? It felt so wonderful. I was light headed and became overcome with…throbbing...Was that an orgasm?"

Fuck me sideways!

"Anastasia, have you never orgasmed?"

"No," she whispers.

"Don't you pleasure yourself?"

"I've never felt the urge."

What the fuck!

"So when you've had sex before, you never had an orgasm?"

"I've never had sex. Or done anything like that before."

"You're a virgin?"

She might just as well tell me she's a unicorn. This isn't possible.

"Yes. I don't have much experience." She looks down, avoiding my gaze.

"Before this, what have you done?"

"I've kissed a couple of boys, but not the way we kissed."

"Oral sex?"

"No."

"Have you seen a dick before?"

"No." Anastasia giggles. "But just now I rubbed yours through your underwear, so that should count for something."

I can't process this.

She's about to graduate college. Don't college kids exist to consume mass quantities of alcohol and fuck each other senseless? That's what I observed at Harvard.

I'm blown away by her lack of experience. Why is she still a virgin? What the fuck am I going to do with a goddamn virgin?

"Shit."

"Please don't be annoyed with me, Christian. I liked what we did. By the way, your tongue is the best thing ever."

Little does she know what my tongue can really do.

"I enjoyed it, too. This was new for me as well."

I more than enjoyed my little tryst with Anastasia Steele.

In truth, this has been the single most exciting experience of my life.

I pull her tightly into my side and kiss her lips softly.

My feelings in this moment are unexpected. With submissives, I disengage as soon as a sex act is completed. But here and now, I don't want to get up. I want to stay exactly like this all the way to Montana, beautiful Anastasia curled up at my side. Unfortunately, with family just beyond the wall and dinner about to be served, I won't be able to indulge myself.

"The bathroom is through there." I point at the door. "Do you mind if I go first? I need to clean up the situation in my underwear. I'll only be a minute, and then it's all yours."

Anastasia nods, and hops up from the bed. She immediately sets to work straightening up the bed and rearranging the cushions.

I wash up as quickly as possible, and then Anastasia slips into the lavatory. While I dress, I hear her urinating and washing her hands. I can't recall hearing a female use the bathroom before, and it seems strangely comforting to have Anastasia doing intimate things within my hearing range.

Upon exiting, she is flushed and slow to meet my gaze. I hope she doesn't have regrets.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. As far as everyone knows, we were talking. You certainly look none the worse for wear." I smooth her hair down and finger comb the tangles, then help her with the zipper on her dress.

When we return to our seats, everyone is eating. Elliot gives me a smirk, but no one else seems to have noticed our absence. By my calculations, Anastasia and I were aft for only about fifteen minutes.

Being on the sofa with food isn't the most comfortable thing in the world. My grandparents were served first, and they offer to switch places with us when they finish. By the time Natalia is prepared to serve Ana and me, my grandparents are ready to move to the sofa.

As Natalia serves my food, she shoves her breasts in my direction. The only tits I want in my face belong to Anastasia. Suddenly an idea springs to mind, as I realize I've never motorboated. Yes, I think I'd like to do that with Miss Steele.

"Would you like some wine? There's a French cabernet that pairs well with the scallops. It's mid-weight and not too sweet." Our entree is seared scallops with tomato confit, which was ordered in from the Fairmont. Natalia only had to reheat it before serving.

"I know nothing about wine, so whatever you think is best."

I get Natalia's attention. As she pours the wine, Ana and I are distracted by the laughter of my grandparents, who are visiting with Elliot and Katherine.

"Kate seems to be getting on well with your family. Kate always knows exactly the right thing to say."

"Do you think so, Anastasia? Frankly, your friend irritated me during the interview."

"How so? Kate's the most charming person I know."

"I appreciate the loyalty you have for your friend, but she implied my success could just be put down to luck."

"That sounds like a misunderstanding. Kate admires your work ethic and acumen. But you must admit, all aspects of life have an element of luck. Perhaps Kate was just trying to learn which fortunate events contributed to your success."

"I don't subscribe to luck."

"Really? Luck is a large part of life. You can call it serendipity, chance, fortune, or God's blessings, but I believe in it. In my life, luck has always come along and replaced my losses. If you don't subscribe to luck, what do you believe?"

"I believe in having control in all aspects of life."

"You're kidding." Anastasia throws her head back and laughs as if she's just heard the funniest joke ever. "You don't really believe you can have control in all things?"

She laughs at me, openly, loudly enough for everyone to turn our way. I'm beyond irritated and half way to furious.

"Yes, Miss Steele, I do believe it. I exercise control in all things."

She leans forward and whispers, "Do you seriously believe either of us had control a few minutes ago on that bed?"

Miss Steele and her smart mouth! To paraphrase Rhett Butler: She needs to be spanked, and often, by a man who knows how _._

"No comeback, Mr. Grey?" Anastasia giggles softly.

Despite my annoyance at her words, I find her arousing.

What am I going to do with this infuriating woman?

 **Anastasia**

Christian's flinty gray eyes are locked with mine, and the man churns with irritation. I've questioned his ability to control life's events. My goal is flirty fun with Christian Grey, Hottie, not a pissing contest with Christian Grey, CEO.

It's time to find my inner vamp.

"Christian, let's agree to disagree on the concepts of luck and control." I reach across the table and lightly rest my fingers on his. I ever so gently stroke his hand. "Sometime this weekend could we be alone long enough for you to show me more? More things like we did earlier?"

I hope I didn't just embarrass myself. Here I am, making overtures to this beautiful man, and what if he rejects me? Surely Christian Grey is accustomed to the rarified beauty of supermodels. He's slumming with me this weekend, and I'm not too proud to take advantage of the circumstances. I'm determined to take a page from Kate's playbook, and for once, I plan to live in the moment.

Christian's eyes soften and his face relaxes.

"Yes, Anastasia, I think private sessions can be arranged. We need to discuss some things first. Later, when we have privacy."

Natalia is summoned to clear away our dishes. While I don't appreciate the way she throws herself at Christian, Natalia is very efficient. She cleans up the table quickly, and fetches the blanket and two pillows requested by Christian. We relinquish the comfy leather seats to his grandparents, and return to the sofa.

"Let's take a quick nap, Ana. By the time we wake, we'll be in Montana."

"A nap sounds wonderful. I was up before dawn. May I put my head in your lap?"

"Of course."

Christian looks around at our group. We're both feeling a bit self-conscious, but at the moment no one seems to pay us any mind. He moves the small travel pillow to his lap. He pats the pillow as an invitation for me to put my head down. Once I'm situated, Christian spreads a fleece blanket over me.

I turn my face into his abdomen, curling my top arm around his waist. It feels comfy, exactly right.

"Is this okay? I don't want to hurt you."

There's something fragile beneath Christian's tough shell. I want to know him, all of him.

"I'm fine. Sleep well." His gaze is tender.

 **Christian**

Anastasia and I nap soundly, and we slumber through the descent and landing. Ana had her seat belt on loosely, and according to Mia, we looked so 'cute,' no one wanted to disturb us. The jet was taxiing the Kalispell airport, when Mother decided to wake me.

"Christian, are you okay? You don't usually sleep so deeply." My mother, the pediatrician, has her hand on my forehead, checking for fever.

"Actually, I feel great. Thanks for waking me."

I gently shake Anastasia, but she isn't budging.

"Good luck with that, Grey," Kate laughs. "Once Ana is out, she's down for the count. Just talk to her, keep nudging and prodding."

I shake Anastasia's shoulders, rub her back, stroke her hair, all the while pleading her to wake up.

She grunts and groans, and rolls over, burying her face in my crotch. Elliot is beside himself, shaking with laughter. Shit, this is certainly not the time nor place for Ana to push herself into my nether regions. Thank God for the small pillow, which hides my raging hard-on.

At last, her eyes fly open. She groans, sits up, and gives me the sexiest grin.

"Are we here?" She whispers, "Has my Montana adventure begun?"

"I think I'm the one beginning an adventure."

I remember the feel of her in my arms. I was fifteen again.

Ana gave me something I never knew I had missed.

The jet pulls into a parking spot and it's time to deplane. The flight crew will take a cab to a downtown Kalispell hotel. There are eleven of us needing transportation to my parents' house, and of course, we have a boatload of luggage.

My parents keep two vehicles on the property. One is a Suburban, which seats seven. The other is a Dodge Ram pickup, with an extended cab, which holds five.

Arturo Garza manages the ranch year round for my parents. Garza has arranged transportation for our large group, having earlier ferried the cars to the airport.

Mia asks if she can drive the Ram and take the ladies up to the house straightaway. Mother agrees to this, so we quickly unload luggage, wanting to fit as many of the ladies' things as possible into the back of the Ram. In addition to luggage, Mother has brought along several boxes of things from Seattle that she intends to leave at this house.

Everyone helps with the sorting of the luggage. I come upon a shabby black bag patched with day-glow orange duct tape. The handle is covered with hideous green camouflage tape.

"Sawyer, this yours? Reynolds?"

"No, boss. Doesn't belong to either of us. Maybe it's Stephan's?"

"Oh, Christian, thanks for finding my bag."

The piece of shit bag belongs to Anastasia! For Christ's sake, the thing is held together with spit and a prayer.

"How long have you had that bag?"

"It doesn't look so nice, but it has served me well since middle school. It's still got some life in it. Don't hate, Christian." Anastasia displays a wry, determined grin.

"Let it go, Grey," Katherine admonishes. "I've tried. It's a lost cause."

I carry the bag to the Ram.

"Was this your only bag, Anastasia?"

"Yes, I travel light. It's the only way to go."

My God, she has the loveliest countenance.

The ladies leave for the house, and I feel an unwelcome sense of loss at being separated from my beautiful brunette.

 **Anastasia**

It's chilly. I wish I had a coat, but I didn't pack for Montana. Christian's family have come prepared, so they don't suffer. Christian and Elliot, being gentlemen, offer their coats to Kate and me, but we decide to huddle together until we make it into the truck. Thankfully, the truck warms up quickly.

Mia drives and Mrs. Trevelyan rides shotgun. Kate and I are in the back with Grace between us. Kate inquires about the location of the house.

Mia is eager to dispense details.

"Right now we are south of downtown Kalispell. The house is about ten miles from here. It's on a small lake, so Dad and Grandpa will do some perch fishing. The ranch is five hundred acres, half in pasture, the other half in forest. Our family doesn't hunt, but Dad leases the forested land during hunting season."

This place sounds fantastic, and I wonder if they have animals.

"If you have pasture, do you have livestock?"

"Yes, Mr. Garza takes care of them. I have no idea how many head of bison and cattle, but there are three horses, some chickens. Mrs. Garza will have dessert for us at the house, so after we get situated, we can all sit down with pie and plan our weekend activities. Elliot has planned a hike, and I have some ideas for the rest of the weekend."

Grace takes Kate's right hand and my left.

"We're so thrilled you girls are able to join us this weekend. You add so much to our gathering."

"Mia is over the moon to have girls her age to spend time with," Mrs. Trevelyan pipes in. "I'm having the time of my life watching Elliot and Christian around you two. Like bees to honey, I tell you. This is the first time Elliot hasn't brought home a whore and the first time Christian has brought home anyone."

"Mother! Please don't refer to Elliot's past friends as whores." Grace attempts to rein in her mother.

"I've actually met some of them, and they were nice, Grandma, so they weren't whores."

"I stand corrected, Mia. And, Gracie, darling, I intend to live my golden years authentically and speak my mind in all things. I was just making a point. The boys bringing Kate and Ana along on this trip is a big deal. It's momentous, I tell you. Momentous."

"Mom, Grandma is right. You have to admit it's a big deal. Maybe Christian isn't gay after all."

It's as if Christian's family has no idea who he really is.

The next few minutes are quiet, and as the sky quickly darkens, I survey the new landscape.

Mia cranks up the radio, sings along to Lady Gaga for a few bars, then suddenly turns it off.

"You know, Kate, El might be a manwhore, but he's a really good guy."

"Yes, Elliot is very sweet. Before we boarded the plane, he took me aside and explained that he's seeing a psychiatrist about his issues. I respect Elliot for trying to change his ways and improve his quality of life." Apparently Kate and Elliot have already had a heart-to-heart talk.

This information about Elliot is clearly news to Grace.

"Mia, did you know Elliot saw someone about his overly active social life?"

Hmm, 'overly active social life' must be Grace-code for manwhore. Grace seems to take comfort in putting a nice spin on things. I can't imagine Grace ever saying something crass, and in that way, she's very different from my mother.

"Yes, he visited John Flynn. El told Christian and me about it, and he plans on telling you and Dad this weekend. Flynn assessed Elliot. Told him he's not a sex addict, just promiscuous. Something about avoiding intimacy. Apparently, it's fixable. El is being proactive, which is cool."

"That's wonderful news. My prayers are being answered."

It's close to 8 pm, and though the sky is dark, there's enough light to see the enormity of the Grey home. It might be bigger than the Kavanagh home, and that's the largest house I've ever been inside. I shouldn't feel intimidated, but I do. I'm so happy Kate is here to help walk me through any do's or don'ts.

Mia, Kate, and I pull all the bags out of the back, and carry them inside the log house.

"Mia, what kind of logs are these?"

"The house is built from cedar, and was designed to blend in with the Western Cedars on the property."

"It's a beautiful house, and from what I can see, the setting is magnificent."

"Thanks, Ana. We don't use the house nearly enough. Mom and Dad would really like to change that."

Grace helps her mother, Margaret, up the front steps. Mrs. Trevelyan doesn't appear to need much help, but Mia informs us that her grandmother has a bad hip, and will soon be having hip replacement surgery.

Mia gives Kate and me a quick tour. Downstairs is an enormous family room with the biggest fireplace I've ever seen. I think I could stand inside it. The room has distinct areas for gathering. In one corner is a game table, hexagonal in a dark wood, with six leather chairs. A grand piano sits in another corner. Directly in front of the fireplace is a huge leather sectional with an enormous coffee table.

Separated from the family room only by log columns, the expansive dining area has a long farm style table that seats twelve.

When I enter the kitchen, I believe I have died and gone to heaven. It is quite spacious, with the latest, greatest appliances, two prep areas with two sinks, two dishwashers, and loads of cabinets and countertop space. The large commercial style range is a dream. A small, dark-haired woman with large brown eyes makes coffee, and smiles broadly at Mia.

"Mrs. Garza, these are my friends, Kate Kavanagh and Ana Steele. Kate and Ana, meet Mrs. Garza, the best house manager in all of Montana."

Mrs. Garza's hands are occupied, so I throw up my hand in a small wave. Kate speaks first, "It's very nice to meet you. We're excited to be here."

"It's wonderful to meet you. Those desserts look wonderful. Did you bake them yourself?" Maybe Mrs. Garza will let me cook with her.

"Yes, I hope you like them. There's chocolate cake for Mr. Christian, rhubarb pie for Miss Mia, and red velvet cupcakes for Mr. Elliot."

"Can't wait to dig into that pie, but I'd better show you to your room." Mia beckons us to follow.

A grand staircase leads us to the second floor. At the top of the stairs are double doors, open wide, and I see a large bed and sitting area. "This is my parents' room. There are two master bedroom suites, exactly alike, one atop the other. My grandparents stay in the one on the first floor."

Mia walks to the end of the upstairs hall.

"This room is for you two. It has twin beds. I'm right next door. Christian is across the hall from you. Elliot is across from me. Each room has its own bath. I'll leave you to get settled, and we'll meet downstairs in thirty minutes or so for dessert. How does that sound?"

"Great! Thank you, Mia." Kate hugs Mia first, and then it's my turn.

"Thanks, Mia. You're so kind." Mia hugs me back tightly. She's so likeable and easy to be around.

"Laters." With a huge smile, Mia bounds to her room.

"Which bed do you want?"

"Elliot asked me to stay in his room for the weekend. Are you okay with that?"

"You know I don't mind. Are the Greys okay with it? They seem open-minded, but what did Elliot say?"

"He says they won't bat an eyelash."

"So I guess you decided against taking things slowly?"

"Actually, I told Elliot that I've never been attracted to anyone the way I am to him, but asked if we could hold off on the sex. He seemed quite relieved, and we came up with some guidelines for our time here. We'll share a room, cuddle and kiss, but we'll be abstinent and work on getting to know one another. He wants me to Skype with his psychiatrist. He seems pretty serious about his therapy."

"Wow, he's so into you that he's willing to hold off on sex. That's wonderful."

"Lord help me, the man is in a league of his own. Off the charts. Way past a ten. He's funny, sweet, handsome, the whole package."

"Elliot appears to be the real deal. But if he snores, you know you can come in here with me."

"Thanks," Kate giggles. "You'll be okay? I don't want you lonely in a strange place."

"I'll be fine. No worries."

"Lemme grab my suitcase and get settled in Elliot's room."

"Do you think I have time for a quick shower and a change into yoga pants? Or is that too casual? I don't want to do anything improper."

"I'm sure it's fine. I'll wear yoga pants, too. Strength in numbers. Laters." Elliot is quickly rubbing off on Kate. She has already adopted his favorite form of farewell.

I put my hair up with a clip. As I take off my dress, I blush at the memory of Christian removing it on the plane. Today I'm thankful to have been wearing my one nice set of lingerie.

Citrus body wash and warm water fill my senses. I think of Christian. Where is he right this minute? Is he across the hall in his own shower?

As I dry off with one of the large, fluffy towels, I recall Christian's elegant hands, his wide palms and long fingers. I can still feel the warmth of his fingertips on my skin.

Towel wrapped around my torso, I decide to unpack. There's a generous closet with empty hangers for my clothes.

I giggle affectionately at the sight of my beat up suitcase, which bulges and appears overstuffed. My fondness for the bag is short-lived, however, when the zipper comes off its track. Try as I might, I can't get the zipper right again. How will I make it home with a broken suitcase? Damn. Another expense. Maybe I can find a WalMart or Target around here.

I dump the suitcase out onto the bed, and can't find anything belonging to me. The clothes aren't Kate's either. It all becomes clear when I spy tags on the clothes. Kate. Mia. Elliot. Shopping.

I thought they were only purchasing a coat and some boots.

What happened to my old clothes? Christian's credit card must have paid for these things. This extravagance isn't something Kate would instigate. She loves me and is sensitive to my feelings. I don't ever want to feel like a charity case, and that's exactly how I feel right this minute.

There are assorted yoga pants, jeans, t-shirts, button-ups, and socks, along with khaki cargo pants, a down jacket, beanie, leather gloves, and a scarf. I also find hiking boots, Nikes, and ballet flats.

With all these things, it's no wonder the zipper broke. The suitcase was overpacked.

So small that I almost miss them, I find two tiny bikinis. They're folded so compactly, they fit in the palm of one hand. I feel certain Kate didn't choose these. She knows how self-conscious I am.

And then I find two things I absolutely love, love, love. First, a quilted Patagonia vest in gray, the exact silvery, gray color of Christian's eyes. Second, a pair of Frye boots, too beautiful and expensive to ever be mine.

There are small bags from Neiman Marcus, and when I pull them out, I hear the rustle of tissue paper. I unwrap four bras, and two panties to match each bra, more than enough underwear for a long weekend.

One set immediately catches my eye, cream lace with delicate lavender embroidery. I find nail clippers, carefully clip off the tags, drop the towel, and put them on. I feel sexy, feminine. I have no choice but to accept these, right? I can't run around without underwear.

There's nightwear, but it's not my usual style of beat up camisole and sleep short. There are three baby doll sets, with matching thong, in black, blush, and pale blue.

I gasp when I unwrap a long spaghetti strapped satin gown in a warm, candlelight beige. The fabric is cut on the bias. It looks like something a film star would wear. A gorgeous, long satin robe matches the gown. I slip the robe on and tie the wide sash. The candlelight color warms my pale complexion, and dare I say it, I actually feel…glamorous.

An insistent knock beckons me to the door, and certain it's Kate, I throw it open.

"Bug, these clothes-"

It's Christian.

He steps inside, looks me up and down, and then surveys the room.

"Where's Katherine? Are we alone?"

"Elliot invited Kate to stay in his room, so I have the room all to myself. Is everyone gathered for dessert already? I thought I'd take the time to shower and change. It's been a long day."

"You look beautiful, Anastasia. No make-up and that robe. Wow." Christian runs his finger across his lower lip and our eyes meet.

"This robe is gorgeous. Thank you, but you didn't need to buy me all these clothes."

"The way you look in that robe…damn, that's some money well spent." Christian moves closer.

"I looked in my suitcase, but discovered all my clothes have disappeared and been replaced with new ones." I point to the stack of clothes on the bed. "I have no idea what happened to the clothes I packed."

"I instructed Mia and Katherine to get whatever they thought you needed. Mia didn't know what you'd packed, so that's why she got a little of everything. Do you not like what she selected?"

"I love these new clothes. Thank you, Christian. They're beautiful, but it's all too much."

"Do you mind if I look at what Mia selected?"

"Of course not, you paid for all of it."

Christian reaches for the pile of clothes on the bed. He touches the gown.

"This matches the robe. Satin. You should always wear silks and satins, Anastasia. Your skin is so beautiful, and only the finest fabrics should touch it." His voice is warm and seductive.

Christian's hand reaches to my waist and he runs his index finger along the sash, stopping at the knot.

"What do you have underneath this robe, Anastasia?"

Oh, my, we're playing _**that**_ game again _._

"I'm wearing some of the new lingerie you paid for."

"Describe it."

"Maybe you'd like to see for yourself."

Christian stands so close our bodies almost touch.

"Please remember my chest and back."

"You won't ever have to remind me. Please trust me."

Christian puts one arm around my waist and swiftly pulls me against him. My hands find his hair. Our tongues slowly entwine. Christian's mouth is sweet and warm.

I'm vaguely aware that he's untying the robe.

His hands reach under the loose robe and he slowly runs them from my upper back down to my backside. When he finds my buttocks, he gently squeezes them, runs his hands over them a few times, and then gives them a gentle, playful two-handed slap. I think Christian likes my ass.

Christian gently pushes me down onto the bed. We crush the pile of new clothes.

His erection grinds into my wetness. His mouth moves down to my neck, and it is so arousing to be kissed there. My hands are in Christian's tousled mop of ginger hair, pulling and twisting. The grinding of his pelvis feels exquisite, and he punctuates it with an occasional upward thrust. These sensations are so new and the pleasure is overwhelming.

"You feel so good beneath me. I want you more than I have ever wanted anybody or anything."

This sounds like something men say to get what they want. And though it's just a line, Christian delivers it with such sincerity, I pretend it's true. I want to give myself over to him.

We're lost in our passionate kisses, when we hear a tap at the door.

We freeze.

"Ana, it's Grace."

Christian frowns and rolls his eyes, exasperated. I point to the bathroom, gesturing for Christian to hide while I answer the door.

"Just a second."

I get up and quickly retie the sash. My messy bun has come loose, so I pull my fingers through my hair in an attempt to be presentable.

When I open the door to Mrs. Grey, her eyes take in my appearance, studying me.

"Please come in."

"You look lovely, Ana. Your beauty is so fresh and natural."

"Thank you." I blush at the compliment.

I wonder what led her to my room.

"You're welcome." Mrs. Grey surveys the room. "We're serving dessert. Kate said you were showering, and I wanted to check that you have everything you need."

"I was just about to change into yoga pants. I hope that's not too casual."

"Casual is the name of the game around here. Mia and Kate have changed into yoga pants, so it appears you girls are all of like mind. I expect we'll see you in a few minutes then?"

Grace looks over toward the bathroom door. It's closed, but light can be seen through the bottom of the door. Does she know Christian is in there?

"Yes, I can be ready in five."

"Have you seen Christian? Everyone is downstairs except you two."

"Is he not in his room?" I don't ever want to lie to this sweet woman. I feel like an errant teen caught by a boyfriend's mom. Mrs. Grey looks at the bathroom door again. Did she see Christian come into my room? For the love of God, I'm twenty-one years old. Why do I feel guilty about making out with her son?

"No, I knocked on his door, but no answer. I thought perhaps he was with you." She seems hopeful, rather than accusatory.

"Christian seems pretty attached to his phone. Perhaps someone should text him." I didn't lie. I just tried to redirect her thoughts.

"Good idea. Well, I'll let you get dressed. See you in a few minutes." Mrs. Grey gently closes the door behind her.

I race to the bathroom.

"Did you hear all that? Go down to the kitchen. I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay, baby, but hurry." _Baby?_ That's something new. I like it. "Let me watch you get dressed first."

"Christian, we'll never get out of here. We don't have time for a make-out session." He smirks at the term 'make-out session', but he doesn't move. "Fine, go stand by the door."

Can I do this?

I slide the robe off and lay it across the bed. I slip my arms into a green long-sleeved tee and ever so slowly pull it over my head and down my torso. I grab the yoga pants and bend over, so my thong clad ass is facing him. I slowly pull on the pants and shimmy myself into them. I hear a small gasp.

"Anastasia, you're killing me."

"Homicide isn't my goal, Christian." I offer my best impression of a flirtatious wink and smile.

"I need to kiss that smart mouth." He pulls me against his hard frame, and gives me a deep, lingering kiss.

"Very nice, Mr. Grey. Go downstairs. I'll be one minute behind you."

 **Christian**

My dick is perpetual granite around Anastasia. Her bare ass cheeks shimmying into those yoga pants—have I ever seen anything finer?

As I walk downstairs, my phone pings. It's a text from Elliot.

 **Yo, dickwad, where R U? Dessert and planning session. Kitchen.**

I hear Elliot's voice, before I enter the kitchen area.

"Where are they? Mom, you're sure they aren't together?"

I swear my brother is the nosiest fucker alive.

"Who are you looking for, El?"

"You, douchebag. Where's Ana?"

"How would I know? Is it my job to keep an eye on her?"

"Dude, you've had your eye on her every minute since you met her. So, yes, I'd say you've assumed the position of Ana's minder."

Our mother intercedes.

"Elliot, leave your brother alone. I told you. I spoke to Ana a few minutes ago. She'll be here shortly. Oh—here she is. Ana, grab a plate and come have some dessert."

"Thank you. I'd love some."

Anastasia looks lovely. She's put her hair up in another messy bun, applied some lip gloss, and covered her cute feet in gray socks. Her natural beauty is perfection. In her hands is the small wrapped box containing the candle she purchased.

"Ana, I made you some tea. Just the way you like it." Katherine places the mug at the empty spot next to her at the breakfast bar. Anastasia hands the box to Katherine.

"Thanks. These desserts look fabulous." Anastasia takes a cupcake and serves herself a tiny portion of cake and pie. She nods to Katherine, who approaches my mother.

"Grace, this is a small hostess gift from Ana and me. We appreciate you taking us in on such short notice."

My mother is delighted by the candle, and touched by the girls' thoughtful gesture.

"Thank you, Ana." She plants kisses on both girls' cheeks. "Thank you, Kate. You girls make this weekend extra special."

Ana addresses Mia. "So what kind of plans did you all make? I'm happy to go along with whatever you decided."

Mia has a yellow legal pad where she's been making notes.

"We decided to make teams. Each team will be assigned a time slot, and the idea is to plan activities to fit the allotted time. Mom and Grandma are only included in game teams, because they shouldn't have to do any planning or work this weekend. It's all about them being entertained."

What the hell? This won't work.

"Mia, I can't be on a team. I have work to do this weekend." She expects me to help plan games and activities? This is not happening. I look across the island at Anastasia, who appears disappointed at my declaration.

"I've already assigned you a teammate, Christian. You can't weasel your way out of this with lame work excuses." Mia twirls her hair impatiently. We stare at each other, neither wanting to cave to the other. "Just accept your fate."

Mia turns away from me, signaling that the subject is closed. I yield to my baby sister. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last.

"There are three teams. Kate and Elliot are Team 1. Ana and Christian are Team 2. Dad, Grandpa, and I are Team 3. Mom and Grandma are Team 4, but their only duties are to relax and have fun."

Anastasia and I are a team. That's definitely a game changer.

"Mrs. Garza is preparing our lunches and dinners. We want to give her a break, so we're on our own for breakfast. Each team will plan and prepare one breakfast. Tonight I'll make out a schedule with each team's assignments. I'll give it to you in the morning. Does that sound okay?"

Elliot raises his hand, as if he's in a classroom. Well, he does need to be schooled.

"Yes, El?" Mia sounds exasperated and Elliot hasn't even asked his question yet.

"What do we win? There should be a prize for the team that does the best job. If Kate and I are going to do all this work, and kick everyone's ass with our awesomeness, there should be a reward."

I know what Elliot is doing. He's prodding me into offering up the prize. Fine.

"What do you want? No way will you and Katherine win, but what kind of prize do you want? And who's going to judge the winners?"

"For my prize, I think I should gain use of your R8 for an entire month."

"No way in hell!"

"Hush, you two." Mia has her own thoughts. "I like the idea of a prize for best team. I think Mom and Grandma should be the judges. Grandma, Mom, what do you two think?"

"A little competition never hurt anyone. Gracie and I can judge. I can't wait to taste what my grandsons cook for breakfast."

"Great! You two can award points for best breakfast, best game, et cetera. What do you think, Mom?" Mia is in her element playing weekend social director.

"It all sounds lovely." My mother looks the happiest I've seen her in a long time.

"Mia, use the AmEx I gave you for the prize. Since Anastasia and I will be the victors, make sure the prize is a good one."

"You're delusional, bro. Kate and I are masters at the art of fun and entertainment. Look at us. We have party written all over us."

Katherine stands behind Elliot, laughing and nodding her head. Elliot is sitting on a stool. Katherine's arms are casually draped over Elliot's shoulders, with one hand flat on his chest. Wishing Anastasia could touch me that way, I'm hit by a pang of sadness.

"We accept the challenge," Anastasia states resolutely. "We'll do our best to be worthy adversaries. Mia, would it be okay if Christian and I cooked breakfast tomorrow?"

Mia nods her approval.

My beautiful girl looks over at me, seeking support.

"I don't know shit about cooking, so I won't be available to help." Best I tell Anastasia right up front.

"Don't worry about a thing, Grey, because Ana is dynamite in the kitchen."

"You cook, Ana?" My mother is impressed.

"Yes, but nothing fancy. When I was fifteen, I started cooking for my stepfather. I cook every day for Kate and myself. Necessity is the mother of invention, as they say. Elliot, do you cook?"

"No, Banana, I do not. Kate will have to take the lead."

Katherine and Anastasia look at each other and break into gales of laughter.

"Hate to break it to you, Elliot, but I can't boil water. Ana, will you help us when it's our turn?"

"Of course. Maybe you could prepare something easy the night before, like a breakfast casserole. Christian, if necessary, are you available to take me to the store early tomorrow morning? I'm sure Kalispell has a 24-hour grocery."

"Sawyer will take you." It comes out colder than I intended.

"Absolutely not! We're a team, and if I go grocery shopping, so do you." Anastasia's hands are on her hips, and she's glaring at me.

The kitchen fills with laughter, and it's directed at me.

"I haven't been in a grocery store since I last went with Mother, when I was about thirteen. No. No. No. I won't be any help to you, so there's no point. I have work to do."

"Yes, you have work to do. And that work involves grocery shopping and cooking. Don't pull that jackass CEO act with me. We're a team."

Anastasia's plump bottom lip is poked out in defiance, and all attention is focused on the two of us.

"Jackass CEO? Really, Miss Steele?"

Anastasia nods, and cracks a small smile.

"You have no idea how lucky you are to be my teammate, Christian. My specialty is the rehabilitation of jackasses. I'm an expert." I see Grandmother elbow Mother. They're eating this up.

"Fine. I will place myself in your capable hands, Anastasia, but I'd appreciate you being considerate of my time."

"Do I seem like the inconsiderate type?"

"I guess not. Our past shopping trips weren't terrible, so the grocery store shouldn't be too awful. I'll try to be less of an asshole."

Anastasia beams at me.

"Alrighty then, less of an asshole. Mia, what time do you want breakfast served? Are there any dietary restrictions?"

Mia, clearly in charge and loving it, makes the executive decision.

"How about breakfast each morning at eight? Grandmother is allergic to lobster and crab, but other than that, no restrictions. Are we good?" Everyone nods and murmurs in agreement. "Okay, break into your teams. Start brainstorming."

I see Elliot and Katherine head upstairs. I know what kind of brainstorming my brother likes, and I wouldn't mind doing a bit of that myself with the lovely Miss Steele.

"Christian, it's been a long day. How about we discuss our breakfast menu, take stock of the pantry here, and make our shopping list? It's late and I'm exhausted."

She's exhausted? Is this her way of telling me she isn't in the mood? If she were a submissive, there would be no excuses and fatigue wouldn't be a problem.

"Sure. What did you have in mind for breakfast?"

"I can prepare whatever you want."

"Anything?"

"Whatever you wish, Mr. Grey." I like the sound of that. _Whatever I wish_.

With a sheet of Mia's yellow paper and a stubby pencil, Anastasia sets about taking inventory of available ingredients. I'm in heaven as I watch her sashay around the kitchen in yoga pants, and I fantasize about teamwork, and all its possibilities.

 **Anastasia**

"It appears we have plenty of food to work with for breakfast. No need for a trip to the store. What does your family typically eat in the morning?"

"Cereal, eggs, the usual."

"I can see you don't give a flip about this, but I'm very competitive, Christian. I've won every sales competition at Clayton's Hardware, every prize offered in the English department, and I intend to win this. The way I see it, breakfast is a big opportunity. Kate and Elliot can't cook a lick, so we'll beat them hands down. But claiming victory over Mia, the pastry chef, and her two helpers will prove difficult."

Christian smiles in amusement at my determination to win.

"Okay, okay. I'm invested. What do you think we should prepare? I've told you, I won't be much help."

"We're a team, Christian, I'll need your assistance."

"I'll help if I can, but the kitchen isn't my thing."

I kiss Christian reassuringly on the cheek.

"I can cook any kind of breakfast food. Eggs any style, waffles, pancakes, bacon, sausage. Just tell me what you think they will like. I found two large loaves of brioche, so we can make French toast."

"I like French toast, so let's do that."

"Maybe you can take orders and serve? Keep the coffee going?"

"We'll see, Anastasia."

"Why don't you get some sleep, Christian? I'll set up the coffee maker, make some notes, set out the mixing bowls, stuff like that."

"Don't wear yourself out, Anastasia. The expectations are low."

"The expectations I set for myself are high. Let's meet up down here at six."

"Fine. Good night, Anastasia." Christian moves forward, then stops. Is he considering a good night kiss? After a brief hesitation, he steps back.

"Sweet dreams, Christian." He moves swiftly and gracefully from the room. Lord, I could watch him all day.

I easily find the things I'll need for breakfast. By the time I head upstairs, everyone has retired to their rooms. I want to speak to Kate about the clothes and other things, but she's with Elliot. When I pass his room, I hear laughter. I smile thinking of my Bug, hoping her heart is full, and praying Elliot doesn't break said heart.

After sorting the clothes, I lay out jeans, t-shirt, and Nikes for tomorrow morning. I put on the satin gown, and it feels so good next to my skin.

I drift off with dreams of Christian's lips on mine.


	7. The Nearness of You

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 7**

 **The Nearness of You**

 **Friday, May 6, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

I wake to the sound of screams.

Christian.

I rush to his room and find the door unlocked. Christian is in the middle of a king-sized bed, thrashing and moaning, in the throes of a nightmare. I can't reach him, so I crawl in next to him.

In an effort to wake him, I run my fingers through his hair, and kiss his forehead. He calms a bit, but doesn't wake.

The door opens, and I make out Elliot's silhouette.

"I've got this. Go back to bed."

"Are you sure? Be careful. Sometimes when we try to wake him, he throws a punch."

Apparently nightmares aren't an unusual occurrence for Christian.

"He won't hurt me. Go back to bed."

As Elliot closes the door behind him, Christian emits a pitiful cry.

"It's Ana. Wake up."

I go for broke. I kiss his lips. I pour all my new found longing into the kiss, hoping to distract Christian from his dream.

It's not long before he returns the kiss. His eyes slowly open, and in a flash, he's on top of me. We're back to kissing, just like our session on his jet.

"I want you."

His declaration speaks directly to my needy lower parts.

"I want you, too. Make love to me."

I throw all my cards on the table.

"I don't make love. I've never done that. I can fuck you hard, but I can't make love to you."

 _Fuck me hard?_ That sounds hot, but it also sounds painful. I want love making.

"What's the difference? Between hard fucking and making love?"

"Not sure I know. Intentions. Feelings." His voice is laced with pain.

"Will it hurt? Hard fucking?" I haven't experienced much pain, and I don't want memories of my first time to be marred with suffering.

"It may hurt. But I don't want to hurt you."

I trust Christian.

"I'd like you to be my first. There will be time for making love later in my life. Right now, I think I'd like for you to do whatever it is you do."

"Before we do anything, you must understand how things are. I've never been attracted to anyone the way I am to you, but I don't do romance. I can't love you. I won't ever love you. You need to know that up front."

And there it is. I'm unlovable, at least by Christian's standards. His words sting.

"Love isn't the reason I'm in your bed right now, Christian."

 **CHRISTIAN**

I've explained how things will be, and Anastasia accepts my limits. I'm not completely comfortable with our agreement, as it is only oral. I'd feel so much better with a written contract.

"Are you sure about this, Anastasia?"

"Yes."

"Birth control?"

"No. You'll need a condom."

I don't travel with condoms, since they're always provided at the clubs I frequent.

If I had my way, I'd take her here and now, and come all over those lush tits of hers. But she's not a submissive, so she has choices.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have condoms. Maybe it's not what you want for your first time, but I can pull out. Or we can just wait until I get some condoms tomorrow."

The air is heavy with sexual tension and frustration. We push our foreheads together, deep in collective thought surrounding how to relieve the strains of our attraction.

"I want you now, Christian, but I also want you relaxed, not worried about anything like pulling out. I don't want to take risks, so I guess we can just wait."

Anastasia wants me. I want her. A solution hits me.

"Ever heard of Plan B? It's supposed to be highly effective. After breakfast, we can run to the drugstore and get Plan B."

I've never used Plan B with any of my subs. Everything about this girl is new and unexpected. I'm operating completely outside my comfort zone this weekend.

It's exhilarating.

"Okay. Let's do that." Anastasia lets out a long breath, and presses her mouth to mine. She favors me with a sweet kiss, filled with longing and need.

"I want to watch you, while I fuck you. I'm going to turn on the bathroom light, and leave the door ajar, so I can see you. Is that okay?"

"Yes." Her voice is soft and tremulous. Anastasia is so innocent, and I've never found that attractive before. What is she doing to me?

I tend to the bathroom light, and deep down I know I shouldn't be doing this. She doesn't know how fucked-up I am. She deserves to have her first time with a man who loves her, a man with a heart.

The truth is I'm selfish. I want her. I want her more than anything I've wanted before.

This is unlike any sexual scenario I've ever experienced. I'm giddy, excited, nervous, like a teenager in the back seat of his dad's Buick.

"Anastasia, do you have any idea how much I desire you? Sit up. Let me help you out of that gown." The satin slides effortlessly over her head. Fuck me. No panties. She is gloriously naked and open to me.

"Your skin is pale. Perfect. Beautiful."

The thought of her flawless skin is unsettling. I'd like to see her skin pink, striped with thin welts from a suede flogger. I shake the thought from my head.

Anastasia grips my upper arms, and I tense in response.

"I won't touch your chest or back, Christian. Please trust me."

I push my face into her lush chestnut hair and gather in her calming scent. An orchard in springtime.

Our lips meet and I taste her sweetness. Running my hands down to her firm little ass, I pull her against my erection.

"Do you feel how hard I am for you?"

Her fingers caress my cheek and move to my hair. She rhythmically strokes my hair, combing it with her fingers. Anastasia twists her fingers in my hair and pulls gently, but insistently. Shit, that feels so good _._

I cup her luscious breasts. She arches her back, pushing her breasts into my hands. She trusts me, and the feeling is heady. Freely giving me dominion over her body, she writhes in pleasure as I roll and tweak her nipples. She really does want this.

"Your breasts are the perfect fit for your body and my hands. Shall I make you come?"

Her answer is a groan and a whimper. I lick her nipples, then blow on them, watching her nipples harden and lengthen. Her back arches and she tightens her grasp on my hair.

I continue to roll her nipples, tweaking and pinching. Anastasia writhes and rolls her hips in response. When I begin sucking her nipples, moving from one to the other with increasing intensity, I'm rewarded with louder groans. Her legs stiffen and her pelvis lifts. She's close. In her rapture, she's become even more beautiful.

"Let go, baby," I encourage.

As I bite down gently and pull on her nipple, she cries out, lost in her orgasm. I cover her mouth with mine, capturing her sounds of pleasure.

Have I ever been so aroused? I want to possess her, consume her.

"You are so responsive. You have no idea how much that delights me."

I run my hands up and down her body. Could she be more perfect?

I lightly brush my fingers over her vulva.

"Baby, you are so wet. Do you want me?"

I thrust a finger inside her.

"Yes," she gasps. "Now."

I thrust again with two fingers, and she cries out. She's tight and warm and dripping with need. I lick my fingers, and relish her taste, the perfect mix of salty and sweet.

Anastasia's inexperienced hand gropes at my cock and increases my need. I scramble up and pull off the pajama pants.

"You want to touch me, baby? Here I am, so ready for you."

"Take off your shirt."

I don't want to expose my scars or tempt her to touch me. Sensing my hesitation, Anastasia reassures me.

"I won't touch your chest or back. I want to see you."

Reluctantly, I remove my t-shirt.

"For you, Anastasia. Only for you."

"Oh, dear God, you are so perfect, the most beautiful man." Her eyes move to my erection, and I see a look of awe and trepidation. "Are you sure that will fit inside me?"

"Yes, you'll stretch. Last chance to say no. Once I'm inside you, I don't believe I'll be able to stop. Do you want me to come inside you?"

"Yes. Please."

"Open your legs and pull your knees up, Anastasia."

I can barely hold myself back. I've never anticipated anything more in my life. I've never wanted a woman the way I want Anastasia.

"I will fuck you now, Miss Steele. Hard."

I position myself over her. Her hands are on my forearms. Her eyes are open wide, filled with trust and longing.

I must own her.

I ease in slowly, and come up against what must be her hymen. I pull almost all the way out, and thrust hard. She's breathtakingly tight.

She cries out in pain.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." Her response is breathy and light.

"I'm going to move now, and it may get intense."

With a yearning I've never felt before, I rock in and out of her beautiful body. It's extraordinary that no one else has ever seen and felt Anastasia this way. In this moment she is mine.

"Feels…so good…inside me. Oh…Christian." She whimpers and sighs in pleasure.

I push into her and grind against her, which stirs her to begin moving against me. She meets me grind for grind, thrust for thrust.

We fit together perfectly.

I claim her mouth, kissing her hard. Our tongues dance with fury, as I increase the speed of my thrusts. I feel Anastasia stiffen beneath me.

"Come for me, baby. Come, Anastasia."

Her mouth opens, her head tips back and she softly cries out my name.

I lose myself at the sight and sound of her satisfaction. I come long and hard, calling her name. When have I ever called out a woman's name?

A new feeling blooms inside me. It's raw, fresh, green, and altogether different from anything I've felt before.

We are forehead to forehead. Anastasia grins sweetly.

In an impulsive and unprecedented show of affection, I run my nose up and down against hers. I kiss her eyelids, and then with light pressure, I plant a long, lingering kiss on her plump lips.

This isn't the way I behave after intercourse. What the fuck just happened? If I thought our airborne tryst was intense, this surely surpassed it.

"That was better than anything I could have imagined."

"We aim to please, Miss Steele."

Anastasia giggles appreciatively.

"Christian?"

"Yes?" I stroke her hair and kiss her nose. She's so warm and soft beneath me. I don't want to move, but I don't want her to be uncomfortable. She winces as I withdraw from her.

"Can we do that again?"

Already? I'm exultant at her response. She wants more!

"I'd like nothing more than to accommodate you and add to your sexual education. Let's clean you up a bit."

I get up, grab a washcloth, and run it under warm water.

When I return, Anastasia has covered herself with the top sheet.

"Pull the sheet down and spread your legs."

She's shy and uncomfortable. I take it no one has ever looked between her legs before. I will be the first, which pleases me greatly.

"I can wipe myself, Christian."

"I know you can, but I want to take care of you. Please allow me."

She spreads her legs. I gently wipe away the external evidence of my penetration.

"I'm so gratified you enjoyed yourself, Anastasia. What did you like best?"

I throw the washcloth across the room, through the bathroom door. It lands on the tile with an unceremonious plop.

"Every moment was perfect, but I especially liked the sounds you made and the way your breathing changed. I won't ever forget it."

Her words make my heart sing, and I pull her into my side.

Taking my hands in hers, she kisses my palms, then reaches up and presses her lips against mine, firmly and chastely.

These are kisses of gratitude.

Could she be any sweeter? I clutch her to me. Her breasts feel soft and warm pushed against my chest.

"Ready to give it another go?"

She peeks up at me shyly and nods her head.

"I trust you not to touch me."

Anastasia nods soberly.

"Stroke my cock, baby." She takes my semi-hard cock in her small hand. As she begins to stroke, I communicate my expectations.

"Shit, that feels great. I want you to face me, straddle my body, and ride my cock. Your hands will be free, but you must not touch me. Baby, you can move up and down or back and forth, however you like it. You will come first, and then you will fuck my cock and make me come. Climb on top now."

I help Anastasia get into position, picking up her hips and pulling her over my dick.

"Grab my cock, and put it inside you. Now rest your hands on the mattress or on my biceps, careful not to touch my chest. I'm holding myself vulnerable to you. Please, be careful."

Anastasia leans forward, resting her hands on my biceps. My hands find her plump, juicy breasts. I finger her nipples and lift my head to suckle her. I bite and nip, then suckle some more. Anastasia moans and mewls in pleasure as she absorbs the sensations.

She slowly moves her hips and pelvis, seeking a rhythm. I'm entranced by her writhing torso and the look of wonder on her face, as she discovers new sensations.

I feel privileged beyond measure to witness and experience this with her. I'm not a religious person, but our fusion feels holy and sacred.

Anastasia reclines on my chest, and it feels amazing. She kisses me passionately as she grinds on my dick. I've never been one for kissing, but Anastasia is a game changer.

"Christian, play with me."

"What do you want, baby?"

"I…I want you to…suck and bite my nipples. Like you were before."

I've never allowed a woman to express her preferences, but I'm proud Anastasia feels free to share her desires. I interpret her communication as a form of trust.

Anastasia's wish is my command. It takes no time, and she's coming like a freight train. I feel her legs and arms stiffen, followed by her vaginal walls squeezing my cock.

"Chrissssstian." Her soft cries fill the darkness.

Spent, she falls against my chest, and the heat of her body spreads across me like a blanket. I feel no pain, only pleasure. She pushes herself up.

"I'm sorry, Christian. I've trained myself not to touch you with my hands, but I forgot about my body."

"It's okay. It doesn't hurt when you touch my chest with your tits. Are you too tired to ride my cock some more?"

She kisses my nose.

"No, of course not. Tell me how you like it."

"I'll enjoy whatever you do. Your pussy feels so good. Just ride my dick, baby."

And she does. Watching my cock moving in and out of her sends me over the edge quickly. I come spectacularly inside her once again.

The hour is very late. Exhausted, Anastasia collapses on top of me. We fall asleep quickly, sated and warm.

 **Anastasia**

I awaken to a stiff neck and a unique view of Christian Grey.

I'm atop his magnificent body. I want to run my fingers through his tousled russet hair and kiss the sharp edges of his jawline, but he needs his sleep.

The bedroom door creaks. I turn to the noise, and watch as the door closes. Our visitor is gone, and I have no idea who it might've been.

I'm naked, on top of Christian, with my legs spread wide. There is a fullness between my legs, and I realize that Christian is still inside me!

Someone was at the door and saw us. As freaked out as I am about that, right now I need to unlink myself from Christian and climb off without waking him. I dig my fingers into the mattress and push myself up off Christian's chest. He stirs, blinks twice, and awakens, looking at me curiously.

"Good morning, Christian."

"Good morning, Anastasia."

There's that boyish grin I like so much. His hands move to my ass.

"You're still inside me. How do we come apart? If I pull away, will it hurt you?" The first time, he initiated our uncoupling, and it hurt a little bit. I hope I don't sound foolish, but I don't know these things.

My questions elicit a merry laugh.

"No, Anastasia, you won't hurt me. But why pull away? Can't you feel me growing inside you?"

"I have to pee. And we need to get down to the kitchen. What time is it?"

Christian reaches for his phone.

"It's 6:25. We have time for some fun." I feel Christian moving gently back and forth inside me. It feels wonderful. I'm almost tempted to offer him another round.

"No, we don't have time. I need a shower, and we need to get downstairs."

Christian puts his hands on my hips and lifts me off him. As soon as he pulls out, I miss the feeling of him inside me.

"What the hell? Did I hurt you, Anastasia?"

Christian looks down at the bottom sheet. There on the sheet is the evidence of my lost virginity.

"I'm fine. Just sore. I apologize for messing up your sheet."

Christian chuckles in realization of what's on the sheet.

"Another first. No need to apologize. I just don't want to hurt you, though you being sore pleases me. It will remind you all day where I've been."

"That sounds very caveman."

"You're mine now. Don't forget it."

His? That's not true, but the idea of belonging to him is a titillating one.

"Oh, Christian, I need to tell you. This morning someone was in here. I only know because I heard the door close. The light was dim, but they saw me naked on top of you. My legs were spread…so I think someone got quite a show of my lady parts."

Gray eyes go wide in shock.

"What! And you don't know who it was?"

"No clue. I'm just praying it was Kate or Mia. Whoever it was, I'm afraid of what they must be thinking."

"Someone in my family is in shock right now. They thought I was a virgin. A gay virgin, at that."

I find my nightgown on the floor, slip it on, then perch myself on the side of the bed.

"I just hope they aren't hating me right now. And I hope they can scrub the visual from their brain."

Christian is stretched out across the bed, his arms folded behind his head. His beautiful bare body is in full view.

"Anastasia, I promise my family likes you. I hate the thought of someone seeing you naked."

"Why does everyone think you're gay? How did that get started?"

"I've never dated and never had a girlfriend. My family has never seen me with a woman before. My family, my employees, and the press have all speculated that I'm gay."

"Well, if you ever need anyone to vouch for your orientation, I'm available." I lean over Christian's body, careful not to touch, and give him a quick kiss on the lips. "It's late. I better get back to my room. See you downstairs."

I step into my room, hoping no one sees me.

Quickly, I peel off the gown and jump into the shower, using the warm water to help wake me. The citrus body wash and shampoo is a special treat and reminds me of Christian.

I quickly blow dry my hair, and pull on the clothes I had laid out.

I find my phone, but it's dead, so I have no idea what time it is. I dig around for the charger, and plug in my phone.

When I get to the kitchen, I don't see Christian, but I do see his dad and his grandpa. They're at the breakfast bar, reading the paper.

"Good morning. What time is it? I hope you haven't been waiting long for your breakfast."

"Good morning, Ana. It's 7:20. Where's my grandson?"

"I don't know, but he was supposed to meet me down here. Would either of you like some coffee? How about orange juice?"

I reach into the fridge and pull out the pitcher of juice I had prepared last night.

Mr. Grey smiles politely. He's very formal with me.

"Yes, both please, Ana. How about you, Theo?"

"Just coffee for me, please."

"What would you like for breakfast? Christian and I planned French toast. I can make a blueberry or chocolate sauce if you like. We have bacon and sausage. If you don't like French toast, I can make pancakes, or any style eggs. Omelet? Frittata? I'm your short order cook this morning."

Mr. Trevelyan looks surprised. "I can have any of that?"

"Yes, or boring old cereal, if you prefer."

"If I can have anything, I think I'd like the French toast with blueberry sauce on the side, and bacon. And please don't tell Margaret. I'm supposed to eat oatmeal."

"Your secrets are safe with me, Mr. Trevelyan."

"Call me Theo or Grandpa, if you like."

"I've never had a grandparent, so Grandpa it is."

I have a weekend lover, a weekend grandfather, new friends, and I'm here with my best friend. I've won the lottery.

"Mr. Grey, what would you like?"

"I'll have what Theo is having. And please call me Carrick."

I decide to broil two packages of bacon in the oven. I figure it will all get eaten. When Christian gets down here, I'll have him watch it. Where the hell is Christian?

As Grandpa and Carrick drink their coffee, they eye me speculatively. I think I am a curiosity to them. They watch as I prepare the batter for the French toast.

"Where's your recipe? How do you know how many eggs and how much milk?"

"You're in good hands, Carrick. I've cooked French toast literally hundreds of times."

Just as my blueberry sauce is coming to a boil, Christian finally strolls in, handsome, cocky, full of himself.

"Where have you been? The bacon needs turning. Please take care of it."

"I have no idea how to turn bacon. You'll have to do it."

He looks away from me dismissively and scrolls his phone. Someone needs to straighten out this man's attitude, and it looks as if the job falls to me.

"I need your help. It's a simple task. Two pounds of bacon are in the oven. Please turn it now, or all of it will be ruined."

I could easily do the task myself, but I want Christian's participation. I toss him an oven mitt, and look up to see Mrs. Trevelyan and Mrs. Grey have joined their spouses for the floor show. I don't care what they think right now. Christian will do his part.

Christian is pissed, but he catches the potholder, and pitches his Blackberry onto the counter. Does he not worry about breaking his phone?

"We're a team."

"God damn it, Anastasia."

He huffs as he pulls out the bacon, which is dark, but thankfully not burned. I hope everyone likes it crispy.

"Here. Use these tongs. Then keep watch and take out the bacon when the other side is brown. It won't be more than a couple of minutes."

I turn to the ladies.

"Good morning, would you like some coffee? Or maybe tea?"

"I'll have some tea. How about you, Mother?"

"Tea sounds wonderful. It looks like you're busy with French toast. We can help ourselves."

"No, please allow us to take care of you. What kind of tea would you like? I see English Breakfast, Earl Grey, and Mango Spice."

"Surprise us, Ana. We're easy to please."

"Any idea what you'd like for breakfast. Last night, Christian and I found two beautiful loaves of brioche, so that's why we planned French toast. But Mrs. Garza has left you well-stocked, so I can make whatever you'd like."

"French toast and bacon will be great. I haven't had French toast in a long time." I have a feeling Mrs. Grey is just trying to make things easy for me.

"Mrs. Trevelyan?"

"I'd also like French toast and bacon." In her excitement, Mrs. Trevelyan is adorable. "Theo and I usually have oatmeal each morning."

I check on the blueberry sauce and it's thickening nicely, just five more minutes. I've soaked the brioche in the batter and the pan is ready. I enjoy the satisfying sizzle when the battered bread hits the heat.

As I prepare tea, I check on Christian. He's wearing an adorable pout. I flip the French toast, and put the syrup pitcher on the breakfast bar. There's seating for six, so I go ahead and set six places.

Christian has taken the bacon out of the oven. I can see it's a bit overcooked. As adorable as his pout is, I need to pull him out of his mood. I can feel four pairs of eyes on me. I walk up beside Christian and stroke his forearm.

"The bacon is perfect. I like mine extra crispy. Who says you can't cook?" I peek up at him with a smile, but he doesn't return it. "I really do need your help, you know."

"I was checking e-mails. And I'm unaccustomed to being at anyone's beck and call. I don't answer to you."

"Is that so?" I bat my eyelashes at him playfully. "We're teammates, so I beg to differ. We do answer to each other, at least insofar as breakfast is concerned."

We glare uncomfortably at one another.

I serve tea to the ladies, and turn my attention back to the French toast, which is almost ready. I plate the bacon, blueberry sauce, and French toast, sprinkling powdered sugar lightly over the toast. I serve two very happy men.

"Christian, since you did such a good job with the bacon, would you like to learn how to make French toast?"

"Do I have a choice?"

He sounds like a complete brat.

"You always have a choice. Your choices lay the foundation and build a framework for all events to follow." I have his attention. "I'll ask again. Would you like to learn how to make French toast?"

Before he can answer, I break eggs into a bowl, and add sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon, vanilla extract, salt and milk. I grab a whisk, but Christian jerks it out of my hand.

"What should I do, Anastasia?"

"I have the brioche soaking for your mother and grandmother, but we need more batter for the rest of us. Whisk all of this together and soak more brioche slices. Then cook for 3 or 4 minutes on each side. I'm here if you need me."

I reach up on tippy toes, and kiss Christian's cheek. He kisses mine in return. The pout isn't quite gone yet, but I can live with it.

"Oh, that is so sweet." I turn to see what are now five pairs of eyes, and five open mouths. Mia has joined the group.

"Hi, Mia. What can we get you? Christian just finished the bacon and is making French toast, but I can fix something else, if you like."

"Christian is cooking French toast? Oh, my God, I'm having some of that. I see the coffee is ready. I'll help myself. Dad, Grandpa, how about a refill?" Mia pitches in and helps.

"Ana, how many slices of brioche should I soak? Two pieces for each person?'

"Yes. We can always make more. Looks like you're ready to put the brioche in the pan. Just keep a close eye on it. You've got this. I'll plate the blueberries and bacon."

It's past eight. I wonder if Kate and Elliot are coming down.

Carrick and Grandpa sit in front of empty plates.

"Would you like more?"

"Thank you, Ana, but I've broken all the rules of my diet. That was a delicious treat." Carrick looks genuinely appreciative. He, along with everyone else, is fascinated by Christian's attention to the French toast.

"You're welcome. Grandpa, how about you? More?"

"I'm happily stuffed. Thank you for the breakfast. The best part is watching Christian in the kitchen. It's a first."

"This is the best breakfast ever. I'm about to eat French toast prepared by my grandson." Mrs. Trevelyan beams.

"Turn around, Christian."

Mia snaps a picture of Christian with her phone. Surprisingly, Christian holds his spatula high and smiles for her.

"Send that to me, Mia. I want to frame it for my office. This is turning out to be the best Mother's Day weekend ever." Shit, Mrs. Grey is going to cry.

I reach my hand out to her, and she grabs it. Our eyes lock.

"Thank you, Ana. Thank you for coming this weekend. You don't know what this means." Her appreciation is sincere, but a bit overwhelming.

"You're welcome, Mrs. Grey. Thank you for having me."

"Please. Call me Grace."

"Grace."

"And you can call me Margaret or Grandma."

"Well, since I've never had a grandparent, it's an honor to call you and Mr. Trevelyan, Grandma and Grandpa. It's a first for me."

"Come here, sweetheart." I move in front of my honorary grandmother, and she sweeps me into a tight, loving hug.

"I've always heard grandmothers give the best hugs, and now I know it's true."

Christian turns around with a plate of food in each hand. He scowls at me.

"Breakfast is ready, Grandmother. Please don't spoil Anastasia with too much affection. Mia, sit down. Your plate is ready."

Mia stands between her dad and grandpa, her arms draped over their shoulders, chatting animatedly. Is she a daddy's girl, like me?

"Banana!" I am practically tackled by Elliot. Right behind him is Kate, and she piles on, too.

"Ana, why haven't you checked your phone?"

"It's dead. Forgot to charge it. What's the problem?"

"José has been blowing up my phone! When I told him where we are, he had a fit, and called Ray. Ray couldn't reach you, so he called Carla. Now all three of them are calling me, worried out of their skulls over you. They won't take my word for the fact that you're fine."

Christian is now on high alert.

"Who are these people, Anastasia? Why are they so worried about you? Do you need to make some calls?"

"I'll call them after breakfast, Christian. It's my family. I forgot to check in with José yesterday. And for the umpteenth time I've forgotten to charge my phone. It was completely thoughtless of me, though in my defense, I've been in a state of extreme distraction."

I look over at Christian, as he should know exactly how distracted I've been.

"Bug, what do you want for breakfast? How about you, Elliot? Everyone else is having French toast, but I can make something else if you like."

"Ellie, try the French toast. Chrissy made it, and it's the best!" Mia points her fork in Christian's direction.

Elliot's eyes go wide.

"My baby brother made French toast? I'm in! Can I get some eggs to go with it?"

"Of course, Elliot. How do you like your eggs?"

"Got spinach and feta? I could go for an omelet."

"Sure. There's bacon left. Do either of you want it? Christian cooked that as well." I look from Elliot to Kate.

"I'll have it. Remember, I'm a man of huge appetites." Elliot winks salaciously. He's so much fun.

"Kate, what did you decide?"

"I'll have French toast prepared by the distinguished Christian Grey."

"How about you, Christian? The cook gets to eat soon."

"I'll make some of my famous French toast for you and me. How about some of that sausage you mentioned?"

I show Christian how to prepare the French toast batter, and he set to work cooking more. I cook sausage and omelets, while Mia makes more coffee, and pours refills for everyone.

Elliot, Mia, and Kate set a light-hearted mood, and the kitchen takes on a festive air. Elliot puts music on, and dances with Kate and Mia. Christian and I work side by side in harmony, and for the next hour, all of us, including Christian, joke and laugh like old friends.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Grace, smiling widely, taking photographs.

 **Grace**

Ana cleaned the kitchen by herself. Surprisingly, Christian offered to help her. Never has Christian voluntarily done a household chore. Ana declined his assistance, sweetly suggesting he finish up with e-mails and calls, so he would have more time to share later with his family. Mrs. Garza offered to help as well, but Ana said no, thank you, declaring that she made the mess and she would clean it up.

Oh, I do like this girl.

I don't want to get my hopes up too much, but it seems there's a spark between Ana and my younger son. I wonder what I might do to encourage them beyond friendship.

Mrs. Garza has dinner planned, but I haven't had a chance to review the menu with her.

I find Mrs. Garza upstairs tidying up, exiting Christian's room with a set of wrinkled sheets in her arms.

"No need to change linens, Mrs. Garza. We just got here."

"Mr. Christian asked me to change the sheets in his room. Looks like he hurt himself."

"What? He didn't say anything about that to me."

"There's blood on the bottom sheet. That's why he asked me to change it."

"Let me see." Mrs. Garza shows me a bloody stain. Did Christian somehow injure himself in the throes of a nightmare? It wouldn't be the first time. I make a mental note to ask him about it.

I see Cary walking into our room. I follow him, and close the door, before stepping behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist.

"This weekend has been a wonderful surprise thus far. Thank you for arranging it."

"Gracie, anything for you. You've been so down, but this country air seems to be just the tonic." Cary turns and scoops me in his arms, planting a kiss on my nose.

"It's not the air. It's seeing everyone so happy. If you hadn't seen it with your own eyes, would you believe Christian would be willing to attempt cooking? These girls! They really know how to handle our boys. They are heaven sent."

"About that. You won't believe what I saw this morning before I went down to breakfast. Sit down."

"What? You're scaring me."

"Just sit. Nothing scary. Astonishing. Shocking perhaps. But not scary."

"Out with it. Tell me."

"I was up quite early, and knowing Christian is an early riser, I went in to see if he wanted to run the moose trail with me."

"And this is astonishing?" Just get to it, Cary.

"Yes, well, I opened the door to his room, and found Christian asleep. He wasn't alone in his bed. Ana was also asleep. She was asleep on top of Christian. They were naked, and he was still inside her. Ana was asleep on Christian's chest."

"She was touching him? They had sex? You saw this with your own eyes?"

I can't believe what I am hearing. She was cuddled up asleep with her head in his lap on the plane. I saw him kiss her on the cheek, and they've been standing very close to one another, but…intercourse? He permitted her to touch him?

"Yes. I'm telling you Christian is no longer a virgin. We don't know anything about this girl. What if she's after his money? Maybe the Kavanagh girl has helped her target Christian."

"Even if it's possible that Ana has nefarious intentions, what's in it for Kate? Christian is a grown man. Every day he deals with people who are after his money. Don't you think he's able to judge for himself who is sincere and who isn't?"

"Well, I intend to take the girl aside and get to know her better."

"Be careful. I like Ana, and I won't have you meddling. I know how you can be. Please don't interrogate her. And if you offend one of the girls, you offend both. Ana and Kate are very close. We need to get acquainted with both girls. You have blown me away with what you witnessed this morning. Ana and Christian sleeping together?" I just can't wrap my mind around it.

"So maybe Christian isn't gay. Or maybe this girl is an experiment for him. You do realize the Kavanagh girl spent the entire night in Elliot's room?"

More revelations from my dear husband…this is news to me.

"Well, I'm not really surprised about Elliot. I do think Kate is a truly nice girl and complements Elliot nicely."

"Both girls seem nice. But years of litigation have taught me that things aren't always as they seem. Let's chat them up and keep an eye on things."

"Have you seen any injuries on Christian? Mrs. Garza showed me blood on his bottom sheet."

"Maybe it's Ana's blood. Menstrual blood."

"Perhaps."

"It's time for a father-son chat with Christian."

"Be careful, Cary. Tread lightly. I mean it. You and he butt heads too much as it is."

"Grace. Trust me."

 **Christian**

I send texts to Sawyer and Reynolds, letting them know the lock on my bedroom door doesn't work. I tell them to get up with Garza immediately, and install a sturdy lock. I don't need any more intrusions this weekend.

I put in a quick call to Ros, checking on a food shipment to Mali, and it sounds as if everything is in order.

I have plenty of e-mails to answer, but I miss Anastasia already. She's just across the hall in her room, and she's become an ever present magnet.

Anastasia throws my equilibrium off. Alone in her presence, I become a ball of goo, and when I attempt to take back my power, I end up acting like an ass. I don't know how I'm going to get through the weekend. I tried calling Flynn, but it goes straight to voice mail.

I find myself outside her door. Am I being too clingy? It's certainly something I've never worried about before. I'm about to return to my room, when I hear her voice, high and agitated. I need to find out what this is about.

I knock, and she answers the door quickly, waves me in, and paces around the room with her phone. She gestures to the bed, so I sit.

"I don't believe Kate would say that, but if she did, she misspoke. He's not a boyfriend, just a friend. You've no right to tell me what I can do. Kate and I reached a mutual decision to come to Montana. Mama and Papa K know the family. They are trustworthy people."

Who's on the phone? They sound close, and Anastasia sounds royally pissed. I hope I never end up on the receiving end of Anastasia's wrath.

"I'm not going to lie. Yes, I'm attracted to him…What?...That's none of your business! You've crossed a line. And honest to God, if you said anything like that to Dad, our friendship is over. You don't get to stir shit up and not expect consequences…Don't call or text me…Yes, we're still on, unless I find out you've done something else…I accept your apology, but it's going to take me a while to get past this…Really, José, what were you thinking?…I will…Bye."

"Who was that? Is everything okay?"

"No, everything's not okay, but it will be. That was my friend, José. My phone died and he couldn't get in touch with me, so he called Kate. She told him about our change of plans, and according to José, she told him we 'hooked up with two hot guys.' I don't believe Kate would describe things that way. José and I have been close friends for four years and our dads are best friends. Recently our friendship has become complicated."

"Complicated? How so?"

"José says he's in love with me, which is ridiculous." I can see how someone could easily fall in love with Anastasia, so why is this boy being ridiculous?

"How is that ridiculous?"

There must be something beyond friendship going on between the two of them, if the boy thinks he's in love with Anastasia.

"The timing. For four years, everything was great. Now that I'm moving to Seattle and José's staying in Vancouver, suddenly he's declaring love. I believe he'll miss me, and on the basis of that, he thinks he's in love. This is his mixed up way of trying to hold on to me. All this would be fine, if I reciprocated his feelings, but I don't. Now everything is just awkward. Plus I have to call my parents and explain, because José called them and got them all churned up. I can't have them thinking that I'm hooking up with some random guy."

Suddenly, Anastasia's eyes go wide, her chin drops, and her mouth opens wide.

"Shit. I did hook up with a random guy. I slept with you within a day of meeting you!"

"So I'm a random guy? Release the guilt. We met each other and felt a special attraction. Do you want me to go?"

Please let me stay, baby, and bask in your beauty.

"I'd like you to stay. Unless you have something else to do."

She wants me to stay. She trusts me, and though we've only known each other for one sunrise, I trust her, too. It feels altogether different from the trust between Dom and sub.

"Climb on the bed with me, Anastasia. I'll rub your back while you talk."

"Okay." She gives me a shy smile. "I better call Dad first. That call will be the more difficult one."

"Why is that more difficult?"

"I don't ever want to disappoint my dad. I guess I need his approval more than my mom's."

Anastasia furrows her brows as she hits send. Her dad picks up quickly.

"Hi, Daddy...I'm fine…That's not what happened, and thank you for not jumping to conclusions. You know me so well…José must have misunderstood when he spoke to Kate, but why would he believe such a thing? I don't even date, much less have sex with strangers…José has been really weird lately. Our friendship is strained…I've never been attracted to José that way…Kate's family is acquainted with them…They're lovely people. Elliot and Christian are friends of ours, but they aren't boyfriends. They have a sister named Mia, and she's also our friend. Their grandparents are here also…If I had a boyfriend, I'd tell you…If he calls again, please don't entertain his craziness. I'll call Mama now…Love you, too...To the moon and back."

I notice the facility with which Anastasia verbally expresses her love to her dad.

"That was easier than I thought. Thanks for sitting with me. One more call and we can plan our activities."

I massage Anastasia's shoulders, and I feel her relax against me. Her hair brushes against my hands. Her voice is soft and low as she speaks into her phone.

"Mom?...I'm well. How are you?...And Bob?...So sorry to hear that…Can't you come without Bob?...He sounds like such a baby. Can't he get along without you for a couple of days?…I'm trying to understand. But I promise, if I get married, it won't be to some helpless infant…Laugh if you will, but I'm not the one stuck at home playing nurse maid…Did you get the package?...I'm so glad you like it…I would have waited until Sunday to make a proper Mother's Day call, but Kate told me José called you…He's not my boyfriend and he's not a boy. He's twenty-seven…Yes, he has a job…Yes, he's good looking. Ridiculously good looking…Kate's family is acquainted with them…They're very nice. We're having a wonderful time…If José calls again, please don't listen to his silly crap…Happy Mother's Day and my best to Bob. Tell him I'm praying for a quick recovery to coincide with my graduation…Call you next week."

Anastasia tosses her antediluvian flip phone on the bed, and rolls next to me.

"Oh, Christian, family is complicated, isn't it?"

These interchanges with her family have been enlightening. Does Anastasia have a problem with her mother's husband?

"Yes, Anastasia. Yes, it is." I raise an eyebrow at her and move closer. "Ridiculously good looking, eh?"

"Ridiculously."

She gently takes my face in her hands. Her kiss is soft, moist, tender.

A man could certainly get used to this.

Just as I'm about to slide my hand up Anastasia's shirt, there's banging and shrieking at her door.

"Ana, open up!"

It's Mia.

"Door's open. Come in."

I was hoping Anastasia and I could just ignore my baby sister and continue our fun.

"Hey, just wanted to—Christian, what are you doing on Ana's bed?"

"We're planning our first activity. The bed is the most comfortable spot. What can we do for you?"

"You'll need your hiking boots. El made plans for zip-line, lunch, and hike, in that order."

"When are we leaving? Christian promised to take me to the drugstore."

"Our zip-line reservation is for eleven."

"Christian! We better get going if we're going into town. Mia, can we meet you guys at the zip-line?"

"Sure. Christian, do you know where to go?"

"I'll get directions from El. Jacket and boots, Anastasia. I'll meet you downstairs in five."

XXXXXXX

When I get downstairs I find my parents and grandparents in deep discussion. My brunette dances with Mia to an old Beach Boys tune. Elliot swings Katherine around.

"Ready?"

"Sure. Does anyone need anything from the drugstore?" Anastasia smiles sweetly and looks around the room at everyone.

My mother and grandmother shake their heads.

"We're taking the Ram," I tell Elliot. "You guys can have the Suburban. See you at eleven."

We wave to my parents and grandparents.

"See you soon," Anastasia promises them with a bright smile.

Anastasia is warm, friendly, and affectionate. Clearly she is too sweet, too good, too kind for the likes of me. I could never be the man for her. But this is just one weekend, and for this weekend, I'll pretend to be what she needs.

Once we're buckled into the truck, Anastasia turns to me.

"I was thinking about how people speculate over your sexual orientation. I've never dated before, never had a boyfriend, and never been seen romantically with a boy. I wonder if people think I'm a lesbian."

"Why have you never dated?"

"It's the same reason I was a virgin. I've never been attracted to anyone before you. You are physically beautiful, highly intelligent, but there's something else about you that calls to me. I need to work it out, especially if I hope to have a romantic relationship."

"Are you looking for a relationship?"

"I think so. Some day I'd like to experience the great love I've read about in books. I came across a quote and it stuck with me. 'To whom you are heaven on earth, all things day and night.' I'd like to think my soul mate is out there looking for me."

"You're quite the romantic. I hope you find what you're looking for."

As much as it pains me to think of Anastasia with another man, I truly do hope she finds her soul mate. Who am I to begrudge her a happy ending?

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but I want to believe that true love exists. You've helped me take the first step. I felt an immediate attraction to you, Christian, and it was such a revelation. Our encounter has been a blessing. Don't laugh, but before meeting you, I thought perhaps I was asexual."

I can't help myself from laughing.

"You are many different things, but asexual certainly isn't one of them."

"Laugh if you must, Mr. Grey. Actually, Kate laughed, too, when I confessed my fears to her."

"You and Katherine are very close?"

"Yes, she's the sister I never had. We confide in each other, but don't worry, I would never violate your confidence by oversharing with Kate."

"Does Katherine date a great deal?"

"Yes. Kate has lots of relationship experience. I've decided to set some parameters, and allow her to fix me up. That's why I want to figure out what makes you so attractive to me. Maybe if I can quantify it, I can communicate what I like. I don't want her setting me up with just anyone."

"You don't have to be attracted to someone to date them, do you?"

"I guess not, but it hardly seems fair to go out with a man, if I don't feel a spark. I'm told there's an expectation of sex after the third date, so if there's no mutual chemistry, why bother getting started? I don't want to lead anyone on. That's why I've always turned down dates."

"If I asked you on a date, would you go?"

Where did that come from? What is this girl doing to me?

"Is that a trick question? If you were the dating sort, of course, I'd go out with you. You are scorchingly hot, Mr. Grey." Anastasia fans herself, as if to swoon. She's adorable. "But you don't date, so your question is moot. Have you ever considered dating, Christian? You have so much to offer a woman."

"No, Anastasia, dating's not my thing."

"You're sexually active, so if you aren't dating, how do you meet women? Do you use an escort service?"

Anastasia's impertinence surprises me.

"Aren't you bold? Remember, you've signed an NDA."

"Of course."

"The sex I've had with you is very different from any sex I've had before. My previous partners were all contracted. They were trained to have sex in very specific ways."

How do I explain this to Anastasia, without it sounding sordid or strange?

"Contracted? Like an employee?" Anastasia's voice squeaks and her brow furrows in confusion.

"Sort of. They were women with very specific skills who were contracted for the sole purpose of sex."

"So you paid them?"

"In a fashion. I gave each of them a car, clothes, and in some cases, jewelry. Some of them also received tuition assistance or help with rent."

Anastasia's eyes are wide with shock.

"Cars? Why would you need to pay? You're brilliant and beautiful."

"I've always paid for sex. For me it's a business transaction. I told you. I don't do romance. I don't do relationships, Anastasia." Her face falls and she looks confused.

"You won't try to pay me, will you? The clothing…is that some sort of payment?" She sounds offended.

"No, Anastasia. You aren't like the others. I want this weekend with you to be different. Though I hope, if you need something, like clothes, you will ask me. Please promise that you will. I want to take care of you, so if ever you need or want something, please tell me."

"I don't need a thing, but if I do, I promise I'll let you know."

At last l find the Walgreen's parking lot in downtown Kalispell. Silence sits between us. I can only imagine what Anastasia is thinking. I know she'll have more questions later.

I take Anastasia's hand and lead her into the store. Neither of us has a clue where the condoms and Plan B are, but we head to the back of the store where the pharmacy is, thinking they must be in that vicinity.

"Here are the condoms. What kind do you use?"

"I've only purchased condoms once and it was a long time ago. I guess I need to check them out."

Actually, I made Taylor go out and get the condoms. One of my submissives was in the midst of changing her birth control method, so we had to use condoms one weekend. I punished her for that.

"Maybe in the process, you can educate me. I may need to purchase them in the future."

I'm angry at the thought of Anastasia buying condoms or dating.

She's mine. Doesn't she realize that?

"There's lambskin, polyurethane, or latex. Are you allergic to latex?"

"No, I don't have any allergies."

"Good. Latex is best for disease prevention. Just so you know, it's been three months between you and my last sex partner, and I always get checked between partners. I'm clean. And with your inexperience, I know you are."

"I did wonder about that. Thank you for telling me. So you don't typically use condoms?"

"No, I don't like condoms. But I always use them when I go to a club. Condoms are standard practice in a club."

"Holy shit, Christian. You are full of surprises. You pick up women in nightclubs?"

"No, not that kind of club."

I see the light bulb come on in her ever so innocent mind.

"You go to sex clubs?" I can barely hear her faint whisper.

"Yes, I can explain all this later, if you have questions. Okay? Trust me. Please."

"I do trust you."

I see the sincerity in her eyes and I hear it in her voice. Her trust makes me feel ten feet tall. We stare at each other for a moment, and then remember why we're standing in a drugstore aisle. I find my voice.

"Besides the type of material they are made of, some condoms have extra features, like ribbing, spermicide, or lubrication. And you can buy them sized, so they fit properly."

"Then I guess you need the extra, extra, extra large." Anastasia giggles.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

I reach for a box of Trojan Magnum XL's and waggle my eyebrows at her. I wave the box under her nose.

"I'm a big boy, Anastasia." I'm rewarded with more giggles.

"Yes, you are. Jeez, that box is huge. It says 36 count. We can't possibly use all those before Monday."

"We could die trying."

I reach to put the large box back on the shelf to exchange it for a box of 12, but Anastasia's hand stops me.

"Let's go for it. And what we don't use, you can take back to Seattle with you. Though I hate the idea of you using them with someone else."

"I didn't take you for the jealous type, Anastasia."

Her jealousy pleases me greatly.

"Yeah, well, it's a new feeling. Another first."

"Me too. When you were talking about needing to buy condoms in the future, I got jealous of all the assholes who will get to date you."

"No need. You will always hold a special place in my heart. My first." She reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses me ever so softly. "Let's find the Plan B. I assume it's somewhere near the pregnancy tests and tampons."

We find it on the next aisle. Anastasia reads the package and tells me she's ready to go.

"Anastasia, if it's all the same to you, I'll give you cash to pay for these things and wait for you in the car. You know, on the off chance that someone might recognize me." I reach into my wallet, find two fifties, and hand them to her.

"I understand, Christian. You can't be seen with someone like me." My girl looks wounded.

"It's not that. I'm proud to be seen with you. I just don't like anyone knowing my private life. Plan B and condoms would make for an interesting tabloid story. Meet you back at the truck."

How can Anastasia possibly think I wouldn't want to be seen with her? I just don't know how to communicate with a woman like her.

Within five minutes, Anastasia climbs into the truck. She hands me my change, which I couldn't give a shit about.

I don't know how to say the words, so I pull her to me, and kiss her with feeling. I want her to know I'm proud of her and only want good things for her.

"You're too good for me, Anastasia."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"


	8. Something to Talk About

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Something to Talk About**

 **Friday, May 6, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

Whitefish Mountain is beautiful, and the zip-line is a blast.

I've never been on a zip-line before, so Christian gave me a few tips, like drawing my knees up to go faster. I don't think Christian made the connection, but his suggestion was reminiscent of him telling me to pull my knees up, so he could put himself inside me.

Christian enjoyed helping me into my harness, and he stayed as close to me as possible.

"I want to monitor your safety, Anastasia."

"Banana, the only thing he wants to monitor is your ass." Elliot gives Christian's arm a rough slap. "Don't trust a thing my little brother says."

The zip-line is so much fun, I don't want to leave. I resolve to find a place back home, where I can do this again.

At lunchtime Christian and I want a few moments alone, so we slip away, taking the chairlift up to Summit House Restaurant, holding hands and smooching the whole way.

"Breaking away from the group, stealing kisses, makes me feel like a naughty schoolgirl."

"I feel exactly the same way. I feel fifteen, free, and wild as a buck. Anastasia, the things you do to me."

The others traveled by gondola, and have already secured a table by the time we arrive. I'm pleasantly surprised to see the Greys and Trevelyans have joined us. Christian shows his affection by taking my hand several times during the meal.

Plan B must be taken with food. Christian, who has been safeguarding the tablet within the zipped inner pocket of his jacket, passes it to me. I'm able to discreetly swallow the tablet without anyone taking notice. Christian watches me like a hawk, and I inwardly chuckle at his controlling nature.

Lunch is delicious, and the company entertaining, though Christian and I say very little. We're primarily absorbed in each other and the fantastic views of Glacier National Park.

We hike the three miles back down the mountain. My new hiking boots prove extremely useful on the rocky trail. You'd think coming down a mountain, as opposed to climbing up, would be easy, but it has its challenges. Christian is exceedingly attentive, helping me at every turn.

 **Christian**

"We need to stop this, Christian, we have activities to plan.''

After watching her zip-line and hike, I need to touch Anastasia. I reach under her shirt and knead her lush breasts. Her hands are in my hair, tugging gently as she kisses the shell of my right ear. All of this is so new, so unexpected, so deliciously vanilla.

"C'mon. Let's get you out of these clothes." I suck lightly on her neck.

Anastasia pushes my arms, and I land flat against the mattress.

She sprints to the door.

"I'm going to open the door now, so we won't be tempted to fool around. We have plans to make."

Pulling a notepad and pen out of her bag, Anastasia climbs back on the bed. She's on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, looking at me expectantly, as if waiting to take a memo. Yep, I'd like to give her a memo. She could take a memo in that sweet mouth of hers…

"Mr. Grey, let's brainstorm."

"About?"

"Activities."

"Like the kind of activities I'd like to engage in with you on this bed?"

Anastasia giggles and eyes my boner, eager for her attention.

"Put it to rest, at least until we get this done. What types of activities and games does Mia want us to plan? What does your family usually do on vacations?"

Anastasia asks about our family vacation activities, but in many ways, I don't know my family all that well.

"I'm busy working, so I don't usually accompany my family on trips. I don't have a clue what sort of activities are expected by Mia or the rest of the family."

"You have a wonderful family. You don't know how lucky you are. I envy people who have brothers and sisters. And your parents are still together. You can see and feel the love in your family."

"Yes, I'm aware of having the perfect family."

I'm also aware that I don't fit into my family very well.

"Why do you seem so sad when you say that?"

"I don't like to talk about it."

"Fine. Be that way." Anastasia sticks her tongue out and rolls her eyes.

"I should spank your sweet ass for that."

"Spank me? How do you do that? Make things sound so inviting?"

"Do you like the idea of it? Me spanking you?"

Perhaps she's willing to indulge me.

"I'm uncomfortable with the idea, but you make it sound sexy. Let's get back to work. Do you have any special talents and skills?"

"You, of all people, should be well aware of my special talents and skills."

"Mr. Grey, you do have me in your sexual thrall, and I fully appreciate _those_ special talents and skills. What I'm talking about are skills like acrobatics or shadow puppets. Card tricks. Things to share with the group. I have no skills, so I'm counting on you."

"Oh, you may not have skills now, but you're filled with promise and potential. Baby, why are you so far away?"

"Baby? Is that what you call your girls?"

"No. You're the only one. I don't use terms of endearment. If you don't like it, I won't use it."

"I do like it."

"Well, baby, how about coming closer so I can show how much I appreciate you."

"You're impossible. If you don't start helping with this, I'll be forced to call Kate and Mia and ask them for help."

"Shit, don't do that."

I don't want our time interrupted by anyone.

"Juggling? Balloon animals? Hula hoop? What've you got?"

"I fly helicopters and gliders, but that's no help here. I have an eidetic memory. I play piano. I speak French, kickbox, and sail. I'm a strong swimmer, and I was on the Harvard row team. Mia once complimented me on my dancing."

"You love the sky and sea."

"Yes, I love the boundlessness of them. I feel free on the water and in the air."

"You're even more accomplished and impressive than I'd imagined. Don't be modest. What are some other things you can do?"

"I excel at calculating risk."

"Calculating risk-there's an algorithm for that?"

"It's an art, not a science. Success for an entrepreneur hinges on the ability to calculate risk."

"What's the biggest risk you've ever taken?"

No contract. No rules. No punishment. No blindfold. No restraints.

"You. You are my biggest risk. But with great risk comes great reward."

"Thomas Jefferson."

"Yes, though he was referring to a revolution."

"Nothing risky about me. I've proven to be a sure thing. But maybe I understand where you're coming from, because you're my biggest risk. You are my revolution. My sudden, radical departure from life as I've known it."

"And you are my revolution, Anastasia. I just hope it doesn't end in war."

"It's all going to be fine. It's just a weekend after all. Kate explained it, how men think, and how things like this work."

"And how's that? What did Katherine tell you?"

I consider Katherine's influence on Anastasia. They're very close. The Kavanagh girl is much worldlier, and I ponder how much sway she holds over my brunette.

"No strings. Just fun and games. So no risk with me, Christian. I have no expectations of seeing you again."

"You don't want to see me again?"

It would hurt, if she didn't want to see me again. I'll miss her. It's an unfamiliar feeling, this painful thought of never seeing her again.

"I didn't say that, Christian. I just don't expect anything from you other than a good time. Speaking of which, let's get back to our task. Since you're a good dancer, perhaps you could give us all a dance lesson as one of our activities."

"No, I don't want to do that, but you could give a lesson."

"I can't dance a single step. I'm seriously awkward."

I have to smile at her admission. It's true. Anastasia is awkward and clumsy. In anyone else, such maladroit tendencies would be intolerable. It's a strange thing, but I find Anastasia's lack of dexterity to be endearing and utterly adorable.

"I'll give you private lessons, Anastasia, but I won't give lessons to my family."

"What about a family sing-along? There's a piano downstairs and you said you can play."

"Maybe." I haven't played in front of my family in over a decade, but perhaps I can do it. "I have an app on my iPad that gives me access to sheet music."

"Perfect! Is there a printer so we can print out copies of lyrics?"

"Yes, my dad has a small study downstairs with a Mac and a printer."

I'll print out a contract at the same time I print lyrics.

"It's settled. The sing-along will be tomorrow's activity. How about we serve cocktails? Loosen everyone up? I can put together a pitcher or two."

"Sounds good. What about Sunday?"

"We need an activity and a game. I have a game in mind for that. Trust me?"

"I do trust you, Anastasia. I don't trust many people, but I'd trust you with my life."

I trust her in every way. Anastasia would never betray me. I know this down to my marrow.

"And I'd trust you with mine, Christian." Anastasia's trust means everything to me. I give her a noisy smack of a kiss, which elicits a giggle. "We need another activity. If the sing-along goes well, maybe we could repeat it. What do you think?"

"Whatever you want. Jesus, you are so fucking beautiful. Close the door, baby. Lock it."

Anastasia and I laugh, talk, cuddle, and make out like teenagers for a good half hour. We feel each other up through our clothes, and she's very careful not to touch my back or chest. She says it's almost become habit to her, and she doesn't have to give the 'no-go' areas too much thought.

I wish I could allow her dominion over my body.

Oh, to be normal.

We go downstairs for game time, which is scheduled to coincide with cocktail hour.

"Does everyone have a beer or one of Dad's lemon drops? It's time to head outside for horseshoes," Mia announces.

Dad helps Grandmother down the deck stairs and we all meet at the horseshoe pit. The pit is adjacent to a patio area furnished with black ironwork seating. Sawyer and Reynolds have joined us. It's turned chilly, so we're wearing sweaters and jackets. There's a portable heater for the patio, so we should be warm enough.

Mia loves being in charge of the proceedings.

"Listen up, everyone. Grams will serve as judge. The rest of you are paired in teams. Elliot and Mom, Christian and Sawyer, Kate and Grandpa, Dad and Ana. I'll team with Reynolds."

What the fuck? Why am I not with Ana? And is Mia trying to get cozy with my security?

 **Anastasia**

I've never played horseshoes before, but the concept is a simple one. Throw the shoe and try to ring the metal sticking out of the ground. I'm paired with Mr. Grey.

"Ana, do you know the rules?"

"No, sir, but I understand the goal of getting the shoe around the rebar. Just so you know, I'm not very coordinated and certainly not athletic. If winning is important to you, I'm afraid you have the wrong partner."

"The goal today is fun, so we won't worry about rules or winning. When it's our turn, I'll show you where to stand. Looks like we go fourth, so you'll be able to watch others before it's your turn. Let's stand back here and observe. It will also give us a chance to get better acquainted." Mr. Grey leads me away to the periphery of the patio, out of earshot of the others.

I look to my right and catch Christian's eye. He looks pissed about something. Maybe I can work my way over to him in a few minutes, and find out what's bothering him.

"If you aren't athletic, Ana, what are your interests?"

"Books. Cooking. That's about it. I'm a simple person."

"Oh? I don't think there's anything simple about you. I think there's much more to you than meets the eye."

There's an unpleasant tone in Mr. Grey's voice. Because I truly am a simple, inexperienced person, I can't recognize what the tone means.

"Ana, if you don't get a publishing job, what will you do?"

"Papa K says he'll find something for me at Kavanagh Media."

"Sounds like you're close to the Kavanagh family."

"Yes. They're wonderful. I love them."

"How did you and Kate become such close friends? You're so different."

"We met the first day of freshman year. We both registered late, and by default ended up roommates. Kate and I are different, but we complement each other well. We're both English majors, which gives us common interests. We chose different tracks, with Kate in Professional Writing. I chose Literary Studies."

"It's great having friends like Kate, isn't it? Friends who are plugged-in, well-to-do."

I can't believe it. Mr. Grey is implying my friendship with Kate is based on money!

"It's great having friends who are intelligent, fun, and creative, whether well-to-do or not."

"Tell me about your family."

"My birth father died in an accident the day after I was born. I was raised by my stepfather. He retired after twenty years in the army, and he's now a carpenter. He lives in Montesano, so I get to see him at least once a month. My mother is a housewife and lives in Georgia with her fourth husband."

Carrick raises a brow at the mention of a fourth husband.

"This lemon cocktail is wonderful. What's in it?" I take another sip. It's deliciously sour and sweet. I should slow down, as I suspect the concoction is deceptively lethal.

"I'm glad you like it. It's white rum, amaretto, and lemon juice. I also added orange bitters and a tiny bit of egg white. What sort of cocktails do you usually drink?"

"I'm not much of a drinker. Sometimes on the weekends Kate and I have a glass of wine with dinner, or occasionally beer with pizza."

"What about when you go to bars? Isn't that how young people socialize?"

Does Mr. Grey think I'm some kind of party girl?

"I'm twenty-one, so I've only been out to a couple of places. Bars aren't really my thing. Going out is expensive, and I'm careful with money."

"You could always find a young man to buy your drinks for you."

Mr. Grey's implications are infuriating. I try to remain cool and calm.

"I don't go out or drink much, and even if I did, Mr. Grey, I would never use someone that way."

"Please call me Carrick."

"Carrick," I say tersely.

"Tell me, Ana, how does it work? I saw you with Christian this morning."

Oh, my God, he knows about Christian and me. He's the person who saw me naked in bed with Christian. I feel my face flush.

"What do you mean?"

"How does it work with you and Christian?"

"I'm still not sure what you mean."

"He's almost twenty-eight, a gay virgin, and suddenly you show up in his bed. What is it about you?"

What does Mr. Grey think I've done?

"Are you asking why a handsome and accomplished man like your son is friendly with a mousy bookworm? I don't know the answer. You'd have to ask Christian."

"Fair enough. I'll ask you, what is it about Christian that you find attractive?"

"He's very handsome, but he's also very accomplished, sweet, and intelligent."

Thinking of our mutual attraction, I can't help but smile. I look over at Christian, as he moves up to throw his first shoe.

"He's also very wealthy."

"And?"

"I'm sure that adds to his appeal."

"His passion for his business adds to his appeal. The money is irrelevant. Clearly, you think I'm some kind of gold digger. I assure you, I have everything I could want or need."

Wishing I could trade places with her, I watch Grandpa give Kate instruction in the art of horseshoes. Anger bubbles inside me, and reining in my shy nature, I decide to say what's on my mind.

"Mr. Grey, I don't really care about your opinion of me, but I do care about Christian. Do you think Christian's money is the only reason a woman would be interested in him? Don't you think he has attributes beyond his wealth making him worthy of attention? And don't you think Christian is intelligent enough to judge whether someone is interested in him for his money? Your line of questioning leads me to believe you don't think highly of your son."

Mr. Grey's eyes are wide, as he peers over my shoulder. I turn to find Grace, who looks stricken. How much has she heard?

"Cary, it's your turn now. After you finish this round, I'll trade spots with you. You'll partner with Elliot." Grace's speech is even, clipped, hard-edged. She's a picture of controlled fury. Clearly these two will have words later about what just happened.

Mr. Grey moves toward the pit. Grace steps closer to me.

"I'm sorry, Ana. I don't believe you're a gold digger, and deep down, neither does my husband. Things with Christian have always been…complicated. I like you very much. I hope you feel welcome here. I apologize for my husband's poor behavior."

I hold back my tears. I watch Mr. Grey throw one shoe, then another.

"Dad, what the hell! I've never seen you throw so poorly. What's up, old man?"

It's my turn. I pick up a shoe and find the line of bricks imbedded in the dirt, but Christian steps forward and shows me another line of bricks, closer to the pit.

"Stand up here, Anastasia. The back line is for men."

With no success, I throw one shoe, and then the other.

I return to Grace.

"Grace, I owe you an apology."

"What on earth for?"

"Mr. Grey saw me in Christian's bed this morning. It was disrespectful of me to behave so indecently in your home. I'm so very sorry. I have no defense. I was raised better than that. If my dad finds out what I've done, he'll have some choice words."

"I have to admit, I was shocked when I heard you and Christian were intimate. We always assumed Christian was gay."

"I would never hurt Christian or take advantage of him in any way."

"I know that. I don't think less of you or Christian. If you want to share a bed, I have no objection. You have nothing to apologize for. May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"How does it work with you and Christian?"

"Mr. Grey asked me the same question, and I'm still not sure what he wanted to know. Could you be more specific?"

"The touching."

"Well…I know where and how to touch, and I'm very careful not to violate Christian's boundaries. He trusts me."

"I see. And what do you think is the best thing about your friendship?"

I giggle reflexively, from both nerves and embarrassment.

"Other than the obvious?"

Grace laughs with me.

"The best thing is when we each push the other out of our comfort zones. Christian challenges me, and I challenge him. I think that's what we enjoy most about our friendship."

"Oh, Ana…you're such a blessing." Tears run down Grace's cheeks. "I'm so glad to know you."

"I appreciate your kind words. I'm a bit tired, and I don't think horseshoes are for me. I'd like to do a little reading before dinner. Will you please excuse me?"

"Certainly, Ana." Grace pulls me in for a tight hug.

I hear Christian calling after me as I reach the top of the deck steps.

"Anastasia! Where are you going?"

"I'm tired and want to put my feet up before dinner. You go back and finish up the game. I'll catch you later."

I'm emotionally drained, but I throw Christian the brightest smile I can possibly muster.

"I'll come with you."

"No. Finish the game. This is family time. I'll see you in a bit." I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his lips lightly. He seems reluctant to let me go.

"You're sure everything is alright?"

"Right as rain." I wink at him. "Now let me watch that cute back end of yours walk back to the pit."

As I stand at the door watching Christian stride away, I consider my mad crush, and how difficult it will be to say good-bye to him on Monday.

XXXXXXX

I wake up to Kate bouncing up and down on the bed. "Ana, it's dinner time! Get up!"

"Kate, please convey my regrets. I'm not the least bit hungry. We ate such a huge lunch."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing really."

"Something's wrong. Tell me. I won't leave until you tell me. Did you and Christian have a disagreement?"

"No, Christian and I get along fine. More than fine. As a matter of fact, he made a woman of me in the wee hours of the morning."

"Anastasia Rose Steele! I need deets! Did you come? Was he gentle?"

"It was absolute heaven. He's ruined me for any other man. I'm a mess. I'm falling hard for him. He's so confusing."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so grateful he made it good for you. He's your first and he made it special. I think it's natural to fall for him. He's brilliant, handsome, sexy."

"He doesn't date. He's not into relationships. He'll break my heart. How can I stop it from happening?"

"Sweetie, there's not a damn thing you can do to stop it." Kate takes my hands in hers. "I'll get you your very own pair of bunny jammies and we'll binge on cheap wine and ice cream. Just enjoy the weekend and revel in pleasure. Live in the moment. Don't dare think how sad you'll feel later. I'm here for you. Now and always."

I throw myself into Kate's arms and cry. Big tears plop onto her shoulders and soak through her shirt. Kate strokes my hair and gently pats my back.

"This is a first, Ana. You've cried over a sad movie, but I've never, ever seen you cry for yourself. All the times you've comforted me, and finally I get to return the favor. I promise. It's going to be okay."

Kate's voice is sweet and soothing. I begin to feel a bit better and try to compose myself.

"It's a good thing you don't wear makeup, because it would be ruined."

We hear Mia's voice.

"Ana? Kate?"

"Come in," Kate calls out.

"What's wrong, Ana? Christian sent me up to see if everything's okay."

"Nothing really. I didn't get much sleep last night, and I think I've overdone things."

"Mia, could you please go in Elliot's room and bring my bag? And do you have an extra hair tie?"

"I'll look for a hair tie. Be right back with your bag."

Kate wets a washcloth and gently wipes my tear-stained face, paying special attention to my eyes and cheeks.

I need to tell her the rest of it.

"There's more. Mr. Grey came into Christian's room this morning and saw us naked. I was asleep on top of Christian and he was still inside me. Mr. Grey saw it all. When I was talking to Mr. Grey during horseshoes, he basically accused me of being a slutty gold digger."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Grace overheard and made nice. I can't possibly sit at the dinner table with Mr. Grey right now."

"I know how self-conscious you can be."

"I'm mortified, Kate!"

"There's no reason for embarrassment. I promise, one day you'll laugh about this. If it makes you feel better, I'm certain Mia and Elliot don't know. They'd be talking non-stop, if they knew. They're such gossips. It's quite entertaining. Does Christian know how disrespectfully his dad spoke to you?"

"No. And I have no intention of him finding out. I don't want to cause problems."

Mia returns with Kate's bag, producing a hair tie. Kate brushes my hair and pulls it into a high ponytail. She applies a dab of her apricot lip gloss, a light dusting of peach blush, and proclaims me better. Kate finishes with a kiss to my forehead.

"Everything's gonna be great. I promise you, Ana."

Mia watches us.

"You two really are like sisters. I wish I had a friendship like that."

Kate pulls Mia and me in close for a group hug.

"Mia, there's always room for another sister." Kate plumps my pillow. "Read or nap. Mia and I will come check on you after dinner. Love you."

"You too, Bug."

 **Christian**

I wanted to escort Anastasia to dinner, but Katherine insisted the job was hers. Something was off about Anastasia when she left the horseshoe pit.

As we enter the dining room, Mother pulls me aside.

"Mrs. Garza had to change out your sheets. Did you injure yourself?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Why was there blood on the sheet?"

"Don't worry about it."

I move to find a seat as far from Mother as possible. I don't want more questions.

We're taking our seats at the dinner table, when Katherine and Mia return. Mother is at one end of the table, and Dad at the other. Elliot moves to take the seat to Dad's right, but Katherine puts her hand on the back of the chair, claiming it for herself. She's one pushy broad.

"Ana sends her regrets. She isn't hungry and isn't feeling up to par."

Shit. What's wrong? Have I upset her?

I take the seat to Dad's left, across from Katherine, hoping to find out more.

"Is Anastasia ill?"

"No, nothing like that. Just tired, and she's lost her appetite." Katherine looks at Dad.

It's a casual family dinner. Mrs. Garza has prepared country fare: ham, biscuits, lima beans, mashed potatoes, sliced tomatoes, and collard greens.

Mother asks Elliot about tomorrow's hike. We all discuss the weather forecast and the Mariners. Mother and Dad rhapsodize over the trail ride they took earlier today.

"Oh, Ana would love to ride horses. It's something she's always wanted to try."

Katherine directs this at me, I think, but says it loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"My whole family loves Ana. We're forever inviting her to go on vacation with us. She's proud and stubborn, though, and always chooses to stay behind for work. She works in a hardware store. Did you know that? Anyway, we went to Wyoming a couple of years back, to one of those dude ranches. When we invited Ana and mentioned horses, we all thought, for one hot minute, we had her. The opportunity to ride a horse almost whittled away her resolve."

"Why wouldn't Ana want to go with you?" Mia seems confused, having missed the part about Anastasia working. Work isn't something with which Mia is well-acquainted.

"Because Ana doesn't ever want to take anything from anyone. She's the least materialistic person I've ever met. She's also the hardest working person I've ever known. Ana has a 4.0 average and has never in all her years of school, made anything less than an A on a report card. She works thirty to thirty-five hours a week at that store. She's worked there for four years and never called in sick. She works extra hours whenever they ask. Dad wants to hire her in the worst way, but she insists on being independent. That's why she's pursuing a publishing job all on her own. She won't allow Dad to help her at all."

Katherine is glaring at my dad, and he looks embarrassed. What the fuck is going on?

"How did you and Ana meet?" my mother asks.

"Ana and I were the last two female freshman registrants, and by default we were assigned as roommates."

"Last registrants? Why?" What would cause them to register at the last minute?

"I was admitted to Stanford, but I'd been in some trouble. It was a serious legal issue. Stanford ended up revoking my admission. My parents gave me an ultimatum. They would help me, but I had to attend a public school in-state. I hemmed and hawed, and finally selected Vancouver, mainly because it was as far as I could get from Seattle and still be in-state. Dad pulled strings to settle everything."

This must be related to Katherine's sealed juvenile records. She's not trying to hide her legal troubles, and I admire that. I respect people who live their lives freely and openly, something I wish I could do.

"Ana was admitted to several schools, but there were family issues and financial constraints. She almost gave up on the idea of college. In the end, she figured out how to make it all work. The girl has grit."

Anastasia hasn't had it easy, which makes me admire her all the more.

"You're both so different, but you get along so well." Mia conveys her regard for the girls' friendship.

"Well, that's Ana for you. I was one angry bitch when I landed in that dorm room. I wasn't particularly nice, but she was kind and thoughtful. So patient. On the third night, I went out with some…rather unsavory folks…got wasted, and returned to our room sicker than a dog. Ana took care of me. That was the beginning. And over time, Ana helped me see things differently, helped me see how things could be. By Christmas break, I felt like a new person."

"Ana's very special. That's easy to see." My mother states the obvious and looks my way.

No need for preaching to the choir. I know better than anyone just how special she is.

"She's the best. My parents have always hoped she and my brother would get together. They already claim as her as their third child, but they would dearly love to have her officially as a daughter-in-law."

Shit! I thought this José character was Ana's only suitor.

"Ana dated your brother?" Mia has my attention now. Was there something Ana didn't tell me?

"No, as much as I'd like it, they've never been more than close friends or brother/sister. Matter of fact, Ethan might be moving in with us when we move to Seattle."

Anastasia might have a male roommate? God damn it! I don't like that one bit. I need to run a background check on Ethan Kavanagh.

"Do you have an apartment lined up? I hope we can hang out when you get to Seattle."

"Absolutely, Mia! You always have a place to crash when you come into town. Dad got us a three bedroom at Pike Place. It's a great location."

"Pike Place is near Christian." Grace looks my way, bright with hope.

"Ana and I can't wait to move to Seattle. Since I grew up in Redmond, I know a lot of people in the area, and Ana's finally agreed to allow me to fix her up with guys. Ana's a total babe, but has no idea how attractive she is. She's not big on going out, but I want to show her how much fun Seattle can be."

I don't want to hear about Anastasia being matched up with men.

Mia and Katherine continue making summer plans. As they talk, they discover they have mutual friends.

Elliot taps his knife against his water glass.

"Just want everyone to know Kate and I planned this evening's activities. We're firing up the hot tub tonight and playing drinking games."

"That sounds like young folk activities, son. Your grandmother and I will take a pass. What about you, Gracie? You and Carrick going to soak in the hot tub?"

"No, Cary and I have things to discuss." Mother looks as if she'd like to throttle Dad. "And then I want to put my feet up and enjoy a movie."

"Mom, I'd like to put a plate together for Ana. Maybe her appetite has improved." Mia is a thoughtful soul, and I appreciate how well she and Anastasia get along.

 **Anastasia**

As much as I want to escape the memory of my conversation with Mr. Grey, I'm unable to sleep. I curl up with my book, but it's no distraction. It's almost eight, when I hear a knock at my door. I'm sure it's Kate and Mia.

"Come in!"

Bounding my way is not just Kate, and not just Mia, but also Christian and Elliot.

"Banana! It's hot tub time!"

"Get up, sister. We're here to roust you out of your funk!"

Elliot and Kate really are perfect for each other. They're both so much fun. It's infectious, and I can't help but perk up.

"We brought food, Ana." Mia carries a plate covered with foil, while Christian holds a glass of water. They both look at me hopefully.

"Thank you. I think I might be able to eat a bit. Tell me who won horseshoes."

Elliot offers a quick recap. "Gramps was victorious. He went on and on about old age and experience always beating youthful vigor. But Reynolds and I were close behind. Dad usually does well, but he crapped out today."

The plate is warm, and the food smells delicious. I tuck into the collards, and they have just the right amount of vinegar. The garlic mashed potatoes are divine.

"I think his game was off because he and Mom are having a disagreement," Mia offers. "She was shooting daggers at him during dinner."

"Think he'll end up downstairs on the sofa?" Elliot laughs. "He better be quick with the explanations and apologies. Mom and Dad were fine before the horseshoes, and then you could see it all change. They don't disagree often, but when they do, watch out."

"It's great you get to see your parents resolve conflict. My parents got a divorce, and I never saw it coming. I never once heard them argue. One day I woke up and my mother said we were leaving Dad, moving away from the house I had always called home. I shouldn't ever get married, because I have no idea how people in relationships resolve conflict."

Once again, too much information. The Greys don't want or need to hear about my issues.

"When I get married, I'm going to have a therapist on speed dial," Kate declares. "Whenever my parents think they need a 'tune-up,' they visit their therapist. If just one of them wants to go, the other isn't allowed to refuse. It works for them."

"Hey, Ana, where are those bikinis we got you?" Mia gets up and starts rummaging through the dresser drawers. "Oh, here they are. Wear the tangerine one. It's perfect for you. I'll clip the tags."

Kate joins Mia at the dresser, and they discuss swimwear.

"So, Banana, you up for some drinking games?"

"What did you have in mind?" Between bites of ham, I give Elliot a sideways glance. "What's involved? I've never played a drinking game."

"You've got to be kidding!" Elliot is incredulous.

"Don't give Anastasia a hard time. I've never played drinking games either," Christian confesses. "I've been too busy to engage in alcohol fueled festivities."

"Oh, come on, Bro. Everybody's played 'Never Have I Ever.' Right, ladies?" Elliot looks back at Mia and Kate.

Both girls nod.

"Sure. It's a rite of passage to play drinking games. But in Ana's defense, she's like Christian. Way too busy to play drinking games." Kate always speaks up for me.

"Okay, Bro, you and Ana are getting initiated tonight. Meet you at the tub in twenty minutes. Reynolds and Sawyer are taking a rain check. Don't look so disappointed, Mia." Mia's face is pouty. "Come on, let's get suited up."

 **Christian**

Everyone has left Anastasia's room, and we're finally alone. Anastasia's appetite has returned, which pleases me. She's eaten everything on her plate except the biscuit. She explains that she loves biscuits, but she's just too full.

"Let me see you get into that bikini." I take her plate, set it aside, and pull her up out of bed. "I want to watch you change."

"Mr. Grey, it would be my pleasure to model the bikini you purchased."

She yanks off her socks, and begins to peel away her yoga pants, when there's a knock at the door. Startled, she pulls up the top of the pants.

"Come in."

The door slowly opens, and surprisingly, it's my parents. Mother appears embarrassed. Dad appears contrite. Both appear quite unhappy. What the hell is going on?

"Christian, could you please excuse us? We'd like to speak to Ana. Privately."

"Why? What the hell is going on?" I look to a distressed, disconsolate Anastasia.

"It'll only take a moment." Mother is somber.

"What the fuck? No. I'm not leaving. I want to know what's going on."

"You don't know? Did Ana not tell you?" My dad seems to think Anastasia would have something to tell me.

"No." I shoot Anastasia a look of disappointment. I'm prepared to be honest and open with her, and I thought she felt the same. "And I would appreciate someone filling me in."

"I don't want to be the cause of discord and conflict, Christian. That's why I didn't say anything. Your father was our early morning visitor, and he had comments about what he saw. I found his words offensive."

I look to my dad.

"What did you do? What did you say?"

"Please allow me to explain. I was up early this morning and thought you might be up for a jog. I came into your room and found you asleep, with Ana on top of you. You allowed her to touch you. I was worried she might be doing some end run around you. I don't want to see you get played. You aren't experienced with women. I was afraid she'd break your heart, take your money, or ruin your reputation. Maybe all three."

"What the fuck do you know about my experience with women, Dad?"

"I know Ana claimed your virginity. Sex is new for you and that might cloud your judgment."

"You really think I'm a hopeless idiot, don't you? I don't owe you an explanation for last night, but I'll give you one. I had a nightmare and Anastasia heard me. She came in to check on me. I seduced her, not the other way around. She was the virgin last night, not the other way around."

"Oh. The bloody sheet." Dad works it out.

"Uh-huh." I confirm his conclusion.

Small sobs wrack Anastasia's tiny frame. Oh, God, she's humiliated. I pull her to me.

"I'm sorry, baby. I fucked up. I'm so, so sorry."

"So you're not gay?" My father still wants to cling to his old assumptions. "Before Ana…you've been with a woman?"

"I'm not gay. I've never been with a man. And yes, before Anastasia, I've been with women. Dozens of women. Wipe the shock off your face, Dad. You should also know, before Elliot and I brought the girls here to Montana, I had background checks run on both, and had them sign NDAs. Anastasia is as squeaky clean as they come. She's completely innocent and I'm no victim. If you want to sit around and wring your hands, do it for someone else."

Ever since I dropped out of Harvard, he thinks I'm a cretin. I've amassed an empire worth over eleven billion dollars, and he treats me like a snot-nosed kid.

"Son. I worry about you." Fuck him. I don't need his concern, his pity, or his regret for adopting me. "I was wrong. I came to apologize. I owe Ana an apology, and I owe you one as well. Please allow me."

I'm so pissed, I don't want to look at my father, much less listen to him. I feel Ana next to me. I look down and she's taken my hand.

"Christian, I want to hear what your dad has to say." She looks at my father expectantly.

"Thank you, Ana, for hearing me out. I apologize for my conversation earlier today. I had no call to say, or even think, that you are friendly with Christian because of his money. You're a lovely person. I see that clearly now, and I was wrong to speak to you the way I did. Please accept my apology. Please forgive me. I know it's asking a great deal, but I'm truly sorry for the hurt I've caused."

"I accept your apology, Mr. Grey, and I forgive you. This subject is closed for me, unless you choose, either through words or deeds, to bring it up again."

Ana turns to me and rests her head against my bicep.

"Do you want to speak to your parents alone? I can leave the room."

I close my eyes. I don't speak. I don't want Anastasia to move away from me. I want my parents to leave the room, but it's clear, they're going nowhere. They have no intention of leaving, unless I listen to my father. I hold Anastasia near. I need to listen to Dad's bullshit and move on.

"Son, I'm ashamed of the things I said to Ana. I meddled in your business, and it was wrong of me. Your relationships are your own. I apologize, son. I know you can take care of yourself. I've always felt a strong need to protect my children, and you in particular hold a tender spot in my heart. Can you forgive me?"

Tender spot? I don't believe it.

I look down at Anastasia. She's holding my left hand in both of hers, stroking it, turning it over and over. It's soothing and calming. She looks at me imploringly, her eyes telling me she wants this settled harmoniously.

Mother's eyes are filled with unshed tears. Shit. I know what would make her happy.

"Sure, Dad. I accept your apology and I forgive you. This sort of thing cannot ever happen again. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes. Thank you for accepting my apology."

Dad opens his arms ever so slightly. He wants to pull me into a bear hug, like the ones he shares with Elliot. I offer my hand to my father, and he shakes it.

"I love you, son."

All my life, Dad has told me he loves me. As always, I am non-reciprocal.

"Hot tub, is it? We'll let you join the others. Let's go, Cary. Good night, you two."

Mother kisses my cheek first, then Anastasia's.

"Good night," Anastasia and I say in unison. This provokes a delighted giggle from Mother, as she and Dad head off to their room.

"That was something. Background check? Really, Christian?"

Anastasia's tone carries a sad resignation.

"It's standard procedure for someone like me. I'm sorry. Sorry for my part and for my dad's." I truly am sorry. I hate seeing her hurt and humiliated.

"Forget it. I think we've run out of time for a modeling session, Mr. Grey. How about I meet you on the deck in a few minutes?" She sounds defeated.

"Okay, but hurry. I'll miss you."

And I will miss her, whether separated for ten minutes or a lifetime.

 **Anastasia**

I could choose to be angry over the demeaning scene I just endured, but instead I just feel sad for Christian.

The Grey family drama replays in my head. It seems Christian and his father have a chasm in their relationship. Their exchange had little to do with me, and everything to do with the two of them. Unfortunately, in the midst of their fractious exchange, my lost virtue became part of the narrative, when intentionally or not, Christian literally and figuratively aired my dirty linen.

In order to survive the weekend, I need to hold my head high, and move past my chagrin.

I throw my hair into a messy bun, and get into the tiny, ridiculously expensive bikini. Mia is right. The tangerine color suits the pale yellow undertones of my skin. I don't have a cover-up, so I wrap up in one of the large bathroom towels.

I'm the last to arrive at the hot tub, which is large enough to accommodate a group twice our size.

"Here's your shot glass, Ana." It's red with a moose. Everyone has a different Montana souvenir shot glass.

I put my nose into the glass, unsure of what I'm offered.

"Tequila?"

"Yep, Banana, it's tequila. Katie Girl says you've never had tequila before. That so?"

I nod at Elliot.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"We're playing a drinking game. Never Have I Ever. Follow along. Never have I ever had sex with a virgin. So, Banana, if you've had sex with a virgin, you and everyone else who has had sex with a virgin, will take a drink. Go."

I don't take a drink, but I turn to Christian. He looks at me questioningly, and I shrug my shoulders in response, letting him know it's okay for him to take the drink.

"Eeeek!" Mia squeals loudly. "You were a virgin, Ana? Christian did the deed? Oh, my God!"

Kate hugs me reassuringly.

"Bro! Wow, I'm impressed! You took a shot, but Ana didn't, so I guess your cherry was already popped." Elliot raises his glass to Christian.

Since Grace and Carrick know, I guess it makes no difference if the siblings know.

It's Mia's turn. "Never have I ever had a threesome."

Christian pours himself another shot and throws it back. Elliot and Kate down theirs.

"Whoa, Chrissy, you're full of surprises!"

It's Kate's turn. "Never have I ever had sex with twins."

Elliot drinks alone this time.

"Banana, you're up."

"Never have I ever had sex in a car."

Elliot, Kate and Mia drink this time.

"Never have I ever had sex with a dude." Christian directs this at Elliot, as if to clarify something between them.

Kate, Mia, and I all take a drink.

The tequila bottle is getting low. Mia gets up for a fresh bottle, and since she needs more lime wedges, she fetches those also. While we wait for her, Kate and Elliot wantonly make out in front of Christian and me. I've seen Kate do this before, and it doesn't bother me, but Christian looks supremely uncomfortable.

"I'm back, bitches," Mia offers good naturedly. "Break it up, you two! I don't wanna watch that!"

"Okay, it's my turn again. Never have I ever joined the mile-high club. But, Bro, one day I expect you to lend me your jet so I can remedy that."

Mia takes a shot, and her brothers gasp at the thought of their sister having airplane sex.

Elliot turns to Christian, "Bro, you should be the one taking a shot. You have a chopper and a jet, why haven't you used them to get laid?"

"I only use my aircraft for business or family."

"Dude, you need to change your policy." Elliot looks over at me and winks.

"Never have I ever picked up someone in a club." It's Mia's turn, and I'm curious about how Christian will answer, seeing as how he's had sex with women in clubs. He doesn't take a drink. I guess if he's paying for the sex, it's not the same as picking someone up.

Kate and Elliot look at each other and clink glasses, each taking a shot. Clearly Kate trusts Elliot with her sexual history, and they don't seem to judge one another. That makes me very happy.

"Never have I ever had sex outside the United States." Kate has always been with her family when she's travelled abroad, so maybe that's why she hasn't fornicated on foreign soil.

All three Greys eye each other warily, and each downs a shot. I guess Christian has had sex on his international jaunts.

It's my turn, and I don't know what to say. I feel a bit uncomfortable, and as I look down at the water, Elliot splashes me.

"Come on, Ana, what have you not done? It doesn't sound like you've done much, so just throw something out there."

"Never have I ever had butt sex. Anal sex."

My eyes go wide as I watch all four of my companions down their shots.

It's Christian's turn.

"Never have I ever had sex in my own bed."

Elliot, Mia and Kate look at Christian as if he has three heads, and they each take a drink.

"Damn, Chrissy, you've blown me away tonight. I always thought you were a gay virgin. We could have been tag teaming."

Christian shifts focus from Elliot to Mia.

"I've had my own surprises. My sister's activities are a revelation to me. Shit, Mia, I'll worry about you more than ever now. Please be careful."

"Always! I'm the same age as Ana and Kate, and you guys don't seem to have any problem with their sex lives. We should respect each other's boundaries."

"Speaking of which, Chrissy, why were you shouting at Dad in Ana's room?" Elliot cocks his head sideways at Christian.

I meant it when I said I wasn't going to be the cause of strife in the Grey family. I squeeze Christian's hand, hoping he'll understand. I don't want Elliot and Mia to know what transpired earlier.

"You know how it is with Dad. He thinks I'm an idiot, and can't think for myself."

"He loves you, Christian. He loves all three of us, and sometimes he oversteps. He does the same thing with me. Don't take it personally. Dad and I had words before I left for Paris. If you hadn't given me the money, I wouldn't have been able to go. It's Dad's messy way of showing his love. Just let it go."

"Mia's right, Bro. Just let it go. There's enough left in this second bottle for another round. Bottoms up!"

Let it go.

And I do.


	9. Spanked

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 9**

 **Spanked**

 **Saturday, May 7, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

My friends, including Christian, drank too much last night. That left me, the responsible one, to tidy up the deck area and the kitchen, which Elliot trashed while raiding the fridge in a drunken feeding frenzy.

Christian wasn't too far gone to want sex. I thought men had difficulty performing while intoxicated, but my Mr. Grey had no such problem. The man is insatiable.

"I'm gonna fuck your tits. Then I'm gonna take you from behind. I need you, bay-bee." Being needed by Christian is a nice feeling. Last night he didn't remind me not to touch his no-go areas, and I'm proud of the trust he has in me.

A drunk Christian is a chatty Christian. Over and over, he implored me never to leave him. Again and again, he told me the various ways I belong to him. "I'm gonna claim that ass. You're not goin' anywhere. That ass is mine. Say it. Say you're mine."

I'm learning about Christian's body, as well as my own. It's thrilling. I don't know how I'll give him up on Monday. I'm already steeling myself for our good-bye.

It's a little past seven. Christian breathes slowly and peacefully. His face is boyish, unlined. He wears the slightest of smiles. I hope he's enjoying a lovely dream. I must be careful to let him sleep. He's told me about his insomnia.

I roll out of bed and throw myself together for breakfast. It's Mia's turn to prepare breakfast, and she probably isn't feeling well. Perhaps I can offer some help.

When I reach the kitchen, Grandpa is at the breakfast bar. He greets me brightly.

"Good morning, sweet Ana! It's a beautiful day."

"Yes, it is. We certainly got lucky with the weather. How about I make you some coffee?"

"Thanks for taking care of an old man. Will you sit with me?"

"Of course. If you're hungry, I can fix you something."

"Let's wait for Mia. She has something planned."

It's coffee for Grandpa and Twining's English Breakfast, my favorite, for me.

Conversation with Grandpa is easy. We share a fondness for county fairs, and I express my delight in the agricultural displays of largest cabbage and biggest rutabaga. He tells me about his orchard, and I'm impressed by the blue ribbons his apples have won at the Washington State Fair.

Grandpa's family stories are fascinating. He was born in 1932, and during Prohibition, his father owned a speakeasy in downtown Seattle, just a block from where Christian now has his business. During the Great Depression, because his father had done so well with the speakeasy, the Trevelyans were able to get by much better than most.

We discuss favorite authors, and discover we share an admiration for Faulkner and Nabokov. I could talk to Grandpa all day, and he seems to value my opinions. Grandpa is a treasure.

I missed the boat when it came to grandparents. I've never met my birth father's family. Ray's parents died when he was a teenager. My mother never got on with her family, and I've no idea if they're dead or alive. Kate's grandparents are pleasant, but I've never felt any particular connection to them.

In just a couple of days, I've developed a deep affection for the Trevelyans, and that will make saying goodbye to Christian even more difficult.

It's almost eight and Mia isn't down to start breakfast. I have no idea what she has planned, or I would get things prepped.

Grandma and Grace join us, and shortly thereafter, Mr. Grey, ear pressed to his phone, makes his appearance. I serve them coffee, start a fresh pot, and then decide to make breakfast. I find plenty of eggs, English muffins, and Canadian bacon. I decide to make Eggs Benedict. There really isn't enough Canadian bacon for all nine of us, but I find some Parma ham as a supplement.

The Greys and Trevelyans chat amiably among themselves as they watch me cook. I start with the Parma ham, and I cook it crisp, using the rendered fat for the grilling of the split English muffins. Then I set about making the hollandaise, whisking until I think my arm will fall off. I'm pleased with the hollandaise. It's rich, smooth, glossy, and absolutely perfect. The last step is the poaching of the eggs.

I plate the Eggs Benedict with the last of the strawberries. Looks like Mrs. Garza will be making a trip to the grocery store. We've been going through so much food, and I can't even imagine what the grocery bill must be.

"This is one terrific breakfast. Thank you, Ana, for the wonderful treat. Wasn't Mia supposed to prepare breakfast this morning? It was our team's turn. She was planning a Parisian breakfast, I think."

Mr. Grey is exceedingly polite to me this morning. He's thanked me several times, just for making a pot of coffee. He must feel guilty, or perhaps Grace took him to the proverbial woodshed and ordered her husband to behave kindly toward me.

"Yes, sir, I think she planned on cooking, but we were up rather late last night, so she's probably feeling…rough?"

"Ah, she had too much to drink. Did you not drink last night?"

"As I explained yesterday, Mr. Grey. I drink occasionally, but I've never been inebriated."

"Thank you for the breakfast, Ana," Grace says sweetly. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"I thought I'd wait for my friends." I'd like to eat with Christian. Only 48 hours left with my beautiful weekend lover, and I don't want to waste any opportunities for shared experiences.

"Never wait around for a bunch of drunks, Ana," Grandma advises.

I feel his presence, before I see or hear him. He takes my breath away, even in a rumpled t-shirt and jeans.

"Christian, my boy, feeling okay?"

"Sure. I earned a few bruises from sparring with El last night, but otherwise, I'm fine." Christian rubs his left bicep. Last night Elliot remembered, even in an intoxicated state, not to touch Christian's no-go areas.

"Coffee and Eggs Benedict okay?"

"Yes, Anastasia, eggs sound perfect." His sexy baritone could make me do anything.

"Ana, I think Christian really wants your eggs," Grandma throws her head back and laughs uproariously.

Grace, Grandpa, and Mr. Grey join in. I can even hear Christian laughing. I feel my face flush with embarrassment, and Christian smirks when I hand him his coffee.

The hollandaise is still warm. I prepare my own breakfast as well, so Christian and I can eat together.

"This is wonderful. I didn't know you could cook like this." Christian smiles in appreciation.

"Breakfast is my thing. Dad and I have always loved breakfast. It's our favorite meal. Sometimes we have breakfast for dinner."

"Ah, yes, you and the greatest man who ever lived."

"You remembered!" I'm touched that Christian remembers what I shared about my dad.

"I remember everything you tell me, Anastasia." My brilliant businessman did tell me he has an eidetic memory.

"You two are adorable," Grandma interjects. "Tell us what else you remember about Ana's dad."

"Mr. Steele retired from the army and now he's a carpenter. He's the greatest man who ever lived, because he gave Ana a home, his name, and unconditional love, even though he wasn't obligated to do so. In that way, I guess he's similar to the four of you."

Grace clasps Christian's hand. She is deeply touched by his acknowledgement of familial love.

"I'm not legally adopted like Christian. I was just a child without a father, and Ray Steele was a father without a child. We're a match made in heaven."

"We understand that perfectly, Ana. Cary and I feel the same way about Christian, Elliot, and Mia. They are also matches made in heaven. Where do your parents live?"

"My dad still lives in Montesano, where I grew up. My mother lives in Georgia with her fourth husband. I guess you can say she's an incurable romantic."

Elliot, Kate, and Mia noisily enter the kitchen, and considering how much they drank last night, they look refreshed and ready for a busy day.

"And you, Ana? Are you a romantic? I'm sure you've broken a few hearts." Grandma smiles sweetly at me.

"I've learned from my mother's mistakes, so I'm more of a romantic realist. And I'm certainly no heartbreaker."

"If you want some hearts to break, I can set you up. Your dad is a carpenter, you've worked in a hardware store, and you know how to talk to guys in the construction trade. You need a man who can work with his hands, if you get my meaning." Elliot winks at me. He's standing behind Kate, hugging her tightly. They look adorable together.

"Oh, El, fix her up with Ben. He's dreamy. What's your type, Ana?"

'I don't know." I don't think I have a type.

"Ben is tall, dark, and very handsome." Mia gets a far away look. Maybe she should be the one to date him.

"Tall, complicated, and handsome seems to be more Ana's type."

The group laughs at Kate's little joke, and everyone looks back and forth between Christian and me. I hope Kate is wrong. I don't want complicated men to become my type.

"Did you want some breakfast?" I offer.

"Is there any left?" Elliot steps forward checking out the counter and stovetop.

Christian answers. "Anastasia cooked Eggs Benedict, but she's finished cooking for the morning. I don't know whose turn it was to cook, but it wasn't Anastasia's job."

"It's okay. I don't mind. It'll only take a few minutes."

It really isn't a problem, and I don't know why Christian should be so testy.

"Thank you, Ana. It was my turn for breakfast, but I overslept. I apologize."

"No worries, Mia."

I get fresh coffee for everyone and set to work. Christian takes off. Kate, Elliot, and Mia chat and entertain me while I cook. I need to take a shower, so I leave them to enjoy their breakfast. Mia promises to finish cleaning up the kitchen.

 **Christian**

The idea of Elliot setting Anastasia up with Ben makes my blood boil. I'm acquainted with El's friend, and he's a pleasant guy. I suppose women would consider him good-looking. Anastasia is mine. Why can't Elliot, and everyone else, see that?

I don't do girlfriends, but I can offer Anastasia a liberalized version of my contract. I need to test the waters a bit before I show her the contract. We need to know each other a bit more.

While Anastasia cooks, I retreat to Dad's study. I print off a copy of my contract and copies of song lyrics for this evening's activity.

I answer some e-mails, and call my realtor, Olga Kelly, to set up appointments to view two properties on the sound. I've decided to purchase a weekend escape where I can dock my boat.

I've been away from Anastasia for too long. She's not downstairs, so I check her room. Her door is open and she's messing around with that hideous suitcase of hers.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to fix the zipper."

"That thing belongs in the trash. Let's go get you a new one."

"Yes, I suppose it is trash. Do you have time to take me shopping? I know there must be a Target or WalMart around here."

"What about a luggage shop? There's one downtown."

"I prefer WalMart. I'm a member of their targeted demographic."

There's Anastasia's smart mouth again.

"Let me buy it for you. I asked you to let me know when you need something, and you promised you would."

Anastasia stills, and I know she's considering my offer and her promise.

"Okay. I'll let you buy luggage, but let's go to Target or WalMart."

"You drive a hard bargain, Anastasia. You should be on my acquisitions team."

"Not for all the tea in China." She giggles.

My heart pounds, my stomach flips, and an unfamiliar lightness fills me once again. Each time the feeling overtakes me, I'm startled by it. It's pleasant and frightening all at once. I must speak to Flynn.

"I need to make a call. Can you be ready in ten minutes?"

Anastasia nods sweetly.

"Okay. Meet you downstairs."

I dash to my room and dial Flynn. He answers just as I'm about to hang up.

"Christian?"

"Yes. John, do you have a minute?"

"Sure. I'm in Olympia for Nigel's swim meet and the check-in desk isn't even up and running. I told Rhian we were arriving too early. So, yes, I've got a minute."

"I'm out of my depth here and I need a bit of help."

"Still in Montana?"

"Yes."

"You've made a friend?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Elliot."

"Right. I told him to put his treatment costs on my account. Anything he needs."

"I'll do that. What can I do for you?"

"I met a woman. The friend Elliot told you about."

"A submissive?"

"No, she's not a submissive. Not that I wouldn't like to have her as my sub. That would be wonderful, but I'm just trying to navigate the weekend with her. Having my family around isn't helping."

"Is this Kate's friend?"

"How do you know Katherine?"

"Elliot. Skype."

Katherine must have something to do with Elliot's treatment.

"Oh. Yes. Anastasia is Katherine's friend. But they aren't at all alike. Anastasia is sweet and kind."

"You don't approve of Kate?"

"She has brass balls. I don't like that in a woman."

Flynn laughs long and loudly. Really, John, it's not funny.

When he stops guffawing, he takes a takes a deep breath and lets it out.

Flynn once again takes on the serious demeanor of psychiatrist.

"Are you enjoying your weekend?"

"Yes, this is the best weekend of my life." I surprise myself when I say it aloud, without pause or hesitation.

"Wow. Then how can I possibly help you? What could be the problem?"

"I get weird feelings around Anastasia. I wonder if her presence is inducing some kind of anxiety attack."

"Describe the symptoms."

"Light-headed. My chest feels strange."

"Strange? How?"

"It happens when I'm close to her or thinking about her. My heart races and my breathing accelerates. My chest feels full and heavy, but my head feels light. My brain is in a fog. It's pleasurable and painful and frightening all at once. During these episodes I feel out of control, which makes me think it's an anxiety attack. What do you think?"

"I want to know more. Can you describe Anastasia for me?"

"Physically? Or her personality?"

"Both."

"She's five-three. Slender. Beautiful. Pale peaches and cream complexion. Powder blue eyes. Long chestnut hair. Intelligent. Hard-working. Patient and understanding, but when my bullshit gets out of hand, she calls me out on it."

"What's her best attribute?"

"That's hard to say. She's made of wondrous stuff. Perhaps the best is when I'm around her…she makes me feel normal. It's a new feeling. But there have been many new feelings with Anastasia."

"Tell me about the other new feelings."

"Well, sex is the big thing."

"You've been intimate?"

"Yes, but it's been completely vanilla. The best sex of my life. And each time is better than the last."

"What about your haphephobia? Did Anastasia object to being restrained?"

"She asked me to trust her. And I do. I've never restrained her. She doesn't touch my chest or back."

"You have a partner you can trust. That's wonderful. Tell me more about the great sex. No BDSM elements at all?"

"None. I've wanted to spank and flog her, but haven't had the opportunity. It hasn't felt right."

"I don't believe you're experiencing anxiety attacks."

"Well, what is this and how can I fix it?"

"You don't fix it. It'll go away on its own. You're experiencing symptoms of infatuation. Christian, you have a crush on Anastasia."

"Crush? Damn it, I'm not some lovestruck schoolboy!"

"No, but you're in a state of arrested development. We've been through this. Emotionally you've been stuck in adolescence. Now you're beginning to experience the things you missed out on when you were a teen. This is a personal milestone for you. Relish it. Cherish it."

"That's it? I'm paying you hundreds of dollars for this phone call and you tell me to act like a teenager."

Flynn knows I don't give a shit about the money. I'm just making a point with him, a point I've made several times before out of frustration.

"There's nothing you can do about it. Infatuation either dissolves and falls away, or it evolves into a deeper attachment. The infatuation will pass in time and you'll be left with memories. But if you get really lucky, the infatuation goes away and the giddiness is replaced by something quiet, solid, and rich…that's love."

"How long does infatuation last?"

"It's different in every situation. It can last days, weeks, months. Infatuation is very pleasurable, so savor the feelings. When we're infatuated, our bodies release dopamine, oxytocin, and norepinephrine, so it's like being on drugs."

"What do I do with a fucking schoolboy crush? Do I tell her? And what do I say?"

"Open communication is always best. I can't tell you what to do or say. You're in control of how things go with Anastasia. Remember to begin with the end in mind. Consider what you want from her. If things don't work out romantically, do you want to retain Anastasia as a friend? She sounds like someone who could enrich your life."

"I think I'll ask Anastasia to be my submissive, and since my family likes her, she can accompany me to family functions or an occasional business dinner."

"Unless she's indicated interest in such an arrangement, you may want to hold off on making the offer. You're returning on Monday evening, correct?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you pick up some breakfast for the two of us and meet in my office at seven on Tuesday morning? I'd like to explore this further."

"Fine. See you on Tuesday."

"Laters." What the hell? Now Elliot is rubbing off on Flynn?

When I get downstairs, Mia meets me.

"Ana says you two are going shopping. May I tag along?"

"Sis, our brother has enough trouble getting his dick wet. He doesn't need to get cockblocked by his sister. Katie Girl and I are going for a trail ride and you're going with us."

"Sure, but can we all meet up for lunch later in town? Please, Christian."

"We'll see. Hopefully Anastasia's shopping won't take long."

XXXXXXX

"The sign says 'Luggage and Leather' and I don't want to search for one of your discount stores. Come, Anastasia, at least take a look."

I drag her by the hand and pull her into the store. A few feet in, she spies a dark purple carry-on. She turns the bag over in search of a price tag.

"No, no, Miss Steele, you promised you'd let me pay. Do you like this?"

"Actually, I do. I like the shape and size, and the color will make it easy to spot."

We open the bag and check out the features. It spins, which seems to be a novelty for Anastasia. I ask the clerk if there are other pieces to match. He shows me two larger sized cases, and I tell him we'll take all three.

"Christian!" My brunette admonishes me. "I don't need all three. I can put the boots and shoes in a trash bag, and all my other clothes will fit in the carry-on."

"You absolutely will not carry your shoes in a trash bag. This is non-negotiable."

I've spoken harshly to Anastasia, and I regret it. She's quiet until we leave the store. As we carry the luggage back to the truck, she loops her arm through mine.

"Thank you, Christian. I appreciate the luggage very much."

"Consider it a graduation gift." I lean over and kiss her nose.

"We've taken care of my luggage situation. What would you like to do now?"

"I'd like to find a quiet place where we can talk. There's a hotel around here. It's just after ten. We can get a room for a couple of hours, then get lunch."

"A room? For such a short time? Won't they think I'm a hooker and you're my john?"

Every time I turn around, Anastasia is saying or doing the most unexpected things.

"I hope you don't give a shit what other people think. But I must admit, you've given me a most interesting idea. Would you care to role-play? We can pretend I'm your john."

I carefully study Anastasia's face. Is she offended? She gives nothing away.

"Is that what you do with your other girls? Role-play?"

"Actually, no. I've never done role-play. We can talk later about why I contract sex, but right now I'd like to try something new with you. Do you want to play?"

"Yes, I'll role-play."

"Excellent. The scene begins as soon as we reach the door of our room."

With a bashful grin, she takes my hand. We walk briskly.

"What kind of hooker am I? A high end call girl or a twenty-dollar crack whore?"

Crack whore? Shit. Did she really just say that?

"You're nothing like a crack whore, Anastasia. Be whomever you wish. We'll figure it out as we go."

At the hotel desk, we're greeted by a very young man with short bristly brown hair. His name tag tells us he is Hobart. The name suits him.

"We'd like a room, please."

"It's not check-in time yet."

"Surely not every room is occupied. Since it's not check-in time, I'll pay for two nights. Does that work?"

"Let me check with my manager."

Hobart scurries into an office behind him. In short order, the irritated looking manager emerges. She's a fortyish busty blonde in a pin-striped pantsuit.

When she sees me, her countenance changes, and she smiles widely in recognition.

"Christian Grey? It's an honor. Welcome to the Kalispell Grand. I'm Lucy Batts, the manager." She extends her hand, ignoring Anastasia.

"Good morning. My girl and I are in need of a room." I emphasize the words 'my girl.'

Ms. Batts looks over at Anastasia and quickly dismisses her, focusing on me.

"You've chosen the right place. Would you prefer a jetted tub king or a glacier king with a shower?"

"Surprise us. Hobart can take care of us from here." I hand my AmEx to the boy.

"Mr. Grey, would it be too much trouble for you to sign my copies of People? The issues for Sexiest Man Alive and Most Beautiful? Your photos don't do you justice."

It's just a face.

"I don't do autographs."

"How about a selfie? I'm a huge fan, Mr. Grey."

"Nor do I participate in selfies. I'm a simple businessman, not a celebrity. Have a good day."

"And a good day to you, Mr. Grey." Ms. Batts turns on her heels in a huff.

Hobart returns my AmEx along with a key card.

"Room 212. The elevator is just around the corner." The boy points the way.

We reach the door. I hear the pounding of my own heart and the distant purr of a vacuum.

It's show time.

"Baby, you're the best thing I've ever seen. I want to fuck you into next week."

"What's your name, cowboy?"

"Clint. What's yours?"

"Jasmine, but I go by my nickname. Jazzy." I unlock the door and we step inside.

I pull 'Jazzy' close. I can feel her warm breath against my chest.

"How much, Jazzy?"

"Depends on what you want. I see that wedding ring on your finger, Clint. Are there things your wife won't do? I can make you feel good."

"My wife doesn't understand me. She won't let me spank her. I want to spank your pretty ass, Jazzy. Then I want you to talk dirty, while I fuck you hard from behind."

"That'll cost you. Three hundred?"

I reach into my wallet and place three hundred dollar bills on the nightstand. My brunette's eyes go wide. I give a small a shake of my head, so she won't protest and kill the scene. I kick off my shoes and climb on the bed, my head on two pillows.

"Strip for me, Jazzy."

And she does, never taking her baby blues off me. She toes off her Nikes and removes her scarf.

"Throw me that scarf, Jazzy." I consider using the scarf as a blindfold or restraint, but decide the spanking is enough for today. I can trust Anastasia not to touch me.

Rolling her shoulders seductively, she removes her jacket. She turns her back to me and slowly peels off her jeans, revealing her glorious ass, wrapped in peach lace. My dick twitches in approval.

I remove my jeans and boxers in one swift movement. I languorously stroke my cock as I watch 'Jazzy' disrobe. She eyes me lustfully, bites her lower lip, and begins the agonizingly slow process of pulling her t-shirt over her head. She's down to her bra and panties, and I drink in the vision before me. She's absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

'Jazzy' self-consciously pulls down her bra straps. She peels down the sheer peach cups, revealing her nipples, which are hard with arousal.

"Clint, would you please unfasten my bra for me?"

She climbs onto the bed and crawls to me on all fours. She turns her back to me, and sits up on her heels. I unclasp her bra and 'Jazzy' lets it fall onto the bed. I toss it on top of the scarf, reach to her front, and palm her plump, juicy breasts. 'Jazzy' moans appreciatively, and slowly lowers herself back onto all fours, her ass facing me.

"Didn't you say you wanted to spank me, Clint?"

"Yes, Jazzy, you need a thorough spanking. You're such a bad girl to trade sex for money. Don't you believe you deserve to be spanked?"

I quickly remove her panties. I palm her ass and raise myself up to rub my cock up and down through her wet folds.

"Yes, Clint, I'm very naughty and if anyone needs a spanking, it's me. Spank me, Clint."

"I want you across my lap, Jazzy. Let's move to the foot of the bed."

'Jazzy' stands in front of me.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, Clint. I trust you."

"Clasp your hands behind your head. I'm going to spank you and fuck you fast and hard. Are you okay with that, Jazzy?"

"Yes, sir." Where the hell did 'sir' come from? I like it.

"If you want me to stop, say the word, and I'll release you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." There it is again. _Sir._ My dick salutes in approval.

"Tell me you understand."

"If I don't like what you're doing, I'll say 'stop' and you'll release me."

I pull her across my lap. My erection brushes against her, and 'Jazzy' wiggles against me. It's arousing, but I need her to be still right now. I trap her legs by pulling my right leg over them.

"I'll smack you twelve times. Four sets of three. Don't move."

My beautiful girl is across my lap, my left hand resting on her back and my right on her gorgeous high round ass. I begin by running my right hand over her cheeks, squeezing and massaging, warming her up for the big reveal.

Lifting my right palm, I smack her hard, just above the juncture of her pale, slim thighs. She gasps, and her back arches. Her head comes up, but she doesn't move her hands. I press down with my left hand to hold her in place, and I use my right to soothe the place I just smacked. 'Jazzy' stills. She pants, waiting for the next hard slap.

I begin again. Right cheek. Left cheek. Middle. Smacking and then soothing after each blow. My stoic beauty frowns in pain, groans, but never says a word. I continue my work, counting silently as I admire the glorious pink pattern emerging on her backside.

"Cry out if you need to, Jazzy. There's no shame in it, and there's no one here to judge you."

I'm beyond aroused, and I need to check on my girl. As I soothe the area between her cheeks, I slide my fingers downward, slipping two fingers into her vagina.

"My God, you are soaking wet, just for me."

Her juices flow onto my fingers, and I can't resist licking them, savoring her taste.

"You taste divine. Here, you must taste yourself."

I plunge my fingers back into my brunette and coat them with her cum, then slide her back to make it easier to reach my fingers to her mouth. She moans as I shove my fingers into her mouth.

"Taste yourself. Suck your sweet cum off my fingers. So good."

She's a good girl, doing as she's told. She's sexy and innocent at the same time. It may sound silly, but I never knew those two attributes could co-exist in a woman.

I slide 'Jazzy' back into place, and with renewed fervor, I spank her. My right palm stings with pain, and I'm breathless with arousal. My cock needs her.

Now.

"That's enough, Jazzy."

I ease her off my lap, and onto the bed. My beauty blinks at me.

"You did well. Very, very well. I will fuck you now. From behind. Do you want to be fucked from behind? Tell me. Talk dirty to me."

I quickly roll on a condom. She's not responding to my prompt.

"Get on all fours. I'll ask again. Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, Clint, I want you to fuck me hard."

Finally. Her voice is clear and strong.

"I'll fuck you as hard as you want. You may come whenever you wish."

I grab her hip with my left hand and gather her hair with my right. A quick thrust, and I'm in her. Heaven _._ I start off slowly and quickly build to a punishing rhythm.

"Do you like this?"

"Yes, Clint, fuck me hard with your big cock. I like it when you pound me from behind with your giant dick."

"Whose pussy is this?"

"Yours, Clint. My pussy is yours. I want your hot cum in my pussy."

Shit. I never let women talk or make noises while I fuck them, but I'll be damned if it isn't hot hearing my sweet girl speak filth while I move inside her. I didn't know I could be aroused by this. Every time I turn around there's a new discovery.

Being near her, I feel unburdened, as if freed from a cage. I'm not a CEO, not a brother, not a son, not a Dom.

I'm just Christian.

"I'm in love with your cock. Give me all of it. Give me your big dick and hot cum."

Reaching under us, I gently stroke her clit and watch my cock move in and out beneath her bright pink derriere. 'Jazzy' grunts, moans, and groans with my hard thrusts. Her cries become higher in pitch. At last her body stiffens and she clenches around me, coming long and hard.

Her cries of pleasure send me over the precipice, and I am bathed in ecstasy. I lose sense of time and space, collapsing onto her back. Slowly I pull out of her, tie off the condom, and throw it on the floor.

"Anastasia?" I roll her over, needing to see for myself. She's quiet, still. She appears stunned and shocked by what just transpired. "Please, tell me what you're thinking."

Please don't hate me. I don't think I could bear it.

"I guess the scene is over now."

"Yes, baby, it's over. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For playing. For being so giving. For letting me spank you." She's deathly quiet. She won't look at me. "Are you alright?"

 **Anastasia**

My magnificent copper-haired man asks if I'm okay, but I'm not sure how to answer.

What just happened? Am I some kind of freak?

I run my hands over the long sleeves of his t-shirt.

"I'm conflicted and a bit frightened."

"Frightened of what? Do I scare you?"

"I'm not afraid of you. I feel strange about what we just did. I gave away my virginity less than 48 hours ago, and I feel like I'm spinning out of control."

"Tell me." Christian holds me close, and I'm in heaven. I can't freely touch him, so I weave my fingers into his hair. "Anastasia, talk to me."

"It's just...I can't manage my feelings very well. I feel guilt…and shame. Christian, I let you hit me. I liked the spanking and dirty talk and pretending to be a prostitute. What does it mean that I enjoyed all of that?"

"You enjoyed it? Thank fuck! I thought you were angry at me for doing that to you."

"No, I'm not angry. To feel an attraction to you, and for you to feel some level of attraction for me…it's a sweet reward. But my feelings for you frighten me. The attraction I feel for you is so strong. It's scary."

"The power of this attraction frightens me too. There's a lot we don't know about each other, and in order to find a way forward to some kind of understanding, we need to reveal ourselves. I've been putting off the discussion about my private life, but I'm ready now."

"I have so many questions. Please explain what your contracted sex partners do. You said they have sex in very specific ways."

"Have you ever heard of BDSM?"

"Like bondage? Sadism and masochism?"

"That's part of it. I'm a Dominant. The women I contract are experienced submissives who've been trained in the BDSM lifestyle. All activity is consensual. The contract is our mutual agreement as to what will take place, down to how frequently we meet, the when, the where and the how. The contract explicitly states what is acceptable and unacceptable to each partner."

"How many submissives have you contracted?" I really shouldn't ask questions, unless I'm sure I can handle the answers.

"Fifteen."

"You've had sex with fifteen women and now I'm number sixteen?" I'm confused, and the source of the confusion is what Christian told his father last night.

"No, I've had contracts with fifteen. Like I told my father, I've had sex with dozens of women. Beyond the fifteen contracts, the other women were in BDSM clubs."

"Dozens? More than fifty?" I throw the number out there, inwardly praying it's not that high.

"No, less than fifty."

"How many?" Dozens, plural. That means it could be around twenty-four women he's had sex with. That's still a high number. Maybe that's not so terrible, I try to reassure myself.

"I actually keep records of each transaction, so I suppose I could go back and count them up. If I had to guess, I'd say somewhere around the three dozen mark."

"Christian...that's a lot of women."

"I'll never lie to you, Anastasia. If you ask me, I will always tell you the truth. When I was training to be a Dom, I went to clubs for my training. I practiced with experienced paid submissives. When I've traveled, between contracts, I've occasionally gone to clubs. Remember? I told you I used condoms in clubs."

"How did you get involved with this? How did you learn about this stuff?"

"One of my mother's friends seduced me when I was fifteen."

"What?" I'm shocked.

"She was into the lifestyle, and I was her submissive for six years."

"You? A submissive?"

"Yes. I had an unorthodox introduction to sex."

"No dating in high school or college?"

"No. I was devoted to her. I thought she was all I needed. And she would have beaten the shit out of me if I had stepped out on her. I've never dated anyone."

"Do you still see her? Your Mrs. Robinson. Do the two of you still…you know?"

"Mrs. Robinson...that's kind of funny. We're close friends and we do business together. We meet up from time to time, go out to dinner. But the sex has been over for a very long time."

"Does Grace know about this?"

"Absolutely not! It would kill her."

"What happened to the fifteen?"

"Various things. I guess it came down to incompatibility."

"Do you still see any of them?"

"No. Once a contract is over, we have no contact. I don't give second chances. Would you like to read one of my contracts? It might explain things for you."

"Yes, I'd like that. Reading a sample contract would probably prove enlightening. Were the contracts all the same?"

"They were basically the same. The limits varied a bit from sub to sub, but the contracts were quite similar."

"So the spanking, was that part of your contract?"

"When I told you that I had never done role-play before, that was true. Role-play and dirty talk can be part of BDSM, but before you, I had never tried any of that. I enjoyed doing that with you, and I'd like to do it again. When you asked 'Clint' what he wanted, I said the first thing that came to mind. Spanking is something I've done with all of my subs. My haphephobia and my need for control are the main reasons for my BDSM."

"Haphephobia?"

"It's the psychiatric term for the fear of being touched. Restraining my partner's hands gives me peace of mind that I won't be touched on my chest or back."

"What's the cause of your haphephobia?"

"I was abused. Before I was adopted. I don't like to talk about it."

"I see. But you haven't restrained me."

"I trust you. I don't believe you will hurt me. You are the first woman I haven't restrained. You are also my first vanilla experience, and I've enjoyed it very much. Still, there are other things I'd like to do with you. Would you mind being bound?"

"No, I guess not. I don't think I'd like it all the time, but every now and then would be okay. Vanilla?"

"Vanilla is straight sex, no toys, no restraints, no punishments."

"So you wouldn't mind more vanilla, Christian?"

"With you, I love vanilla. Has there been anything we've done so far that you haven't liked?"

"That's the thing, Christian. I've loved every bit of it. More than I could have imagined. Under your tutelage I'm becoming quite the wanton woman."

"This has been a diverting weekend for me as well, Anastasia. The making out, dirty talk, role-play…it's all new. All these new sensations and experiences…baby, I'm enjoying myself more than I could have imagined."

"Would you like to join me in the shower, Mr. Grey?"

"It would be my pleasure, Miss Steele."

"And could you please tell Clint to put the cash back in his wallet? He was such a stud that I don't have the heart to charge him."

"Where are you leading me?" Christian hasn't let go of my hand since we walked away from the hotel. Our morning romp has both of us in a lighthearted mood. "Do you think we should call Mia, Kate, and Elliot? Perhaps they haven't had lunch yet."

"You have me in high spirits, and I will happily indulge you. I'll call El." Christian stops in front of a store selling western wear, and pulls out his phone. "With any luck, they've already eaten and I'll still get points for having called."

"Mia? Why are you answering Elliot's phone?...I'm calling to see if you three would like to join Anastasia and me for lunch...Really?...Where?"

Christian is looking around. Are they in the area already?

I almost jump out of my skin when someone hugs me from behind. I recognize the floral scent and know exactly who it is.

"Kate! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Christian turns off his phone and shoves it into his jacket pocket. He pulls me away from Kate and into his side. Kate raises a brow at me and winks.

"Katherine, how long have you been in town?"

"Only about fifteen minutes. We have a table at Norm's News, one door over. Sawyer drove. He was so disappointed in you taking off without him, that he insisted on driving us. Reynolds stayed behind with your 'rents. Let's go."

We walk into what looks like an old-fashioned luncheonette or soda shop. The waitress is in the process of joining two small square tables together to accommodate our now larger group.

"Banana! Did you miss me?"

Elliot scoops me up and swings me around. His silliness makes me giggle. Christian eyes us disapprovingly.

"Actually I did miss you. All three of you. So did Christian. That's why he called you."

Elliot seems pleased by this, and he pulls Kate into his side.

I feel a small loss when Sawyer pulls Christian over to a corner for conversation.

"Did Christian really miss us?"

Mia hugs me in welcome.

"Of course, he did. It's clear that Christian adores and admires you and Elliot very much. He speaks about you both so lovingly."

For the sake of family harmony, I'm completely manufacturing this. I don't fully understand Christian's relationships with Mia and Elliot, but I feel a need to nurture the bonds among them. They have no idea how fortunate they are to have each other.

I look over at Christian and Sawyer. Christian looks pissed and Sawyer looks worried.

"Let's sit. They make awesome huckleberry milkshakes and the lime phosphate is my favorite." Mia shoves a menu my way.

"What's a phosphate?"

By my measure, Montana is quite the exotic locale. Phosphates, moose, bison, glaciers, Christian, spankings.

 _Taste yourself. Get on all fours. Talk dirty._

I blush at the memory.

"Why do you ask me if you aren't going to listen? Ana!" Mia snaps me from my mental wanderings.

"I am listening. I'll try the lime phosphate. What else do you recommend?"

"The burgers are great. The chili-cheese fries are to die for. Look at the huge servings." Mia nods over at a waitress delivering food to the table next to us. The mound of fries is ridiculous.

"Looks like Christian is upset with Sawyer." Mia gestures over at the two, who are huddled in a corner.

"Poor guy is a new hire and he's just trying to do his job." Elliot sympathizes with Sawyer.

"What's the problem?" It's none of my business, but I can't help myself.

"Christian isn't supposed to go out without security. At least not without discussing it first. He pays them big bucks and they're the best. Christian breached his own security this morning by not taking Sawyer or Reynolds. He knows better than to go without a CPO."

Elliot sides with the security staff, and I wonder about the threats Christian must receive.

Christian returns to my side, and Sawyer sits by himself at a table for two.

"Why is Sawyer sitting alone? We have room at our table." I hate the thought of Sawyer, or anyone, being excluded.

"Security always sits to the side." Christian looks at me as if I have two heads.

"Please, Christian. Invite him over."

"No. Protocol dictates that he sits off to the side."

"There's a threat?"

"Not so much here in Montana. The risk is low."

"Apparently you broke your own rules by leaving without him. Please invite him over."

"I break all the rules with you." Christian runs his hands through his hair and pulls at it anxiously. "Fuck. Okay, for you, I'll invite him. Only for you."

We all watch as Christian makes his way to Sawyer. Christian moves with such grace and confidence. He takes my breath away.

"Damn, Banana, you really manage my brother. He lets you lead him around by his dick."

Mia and Kate nod enthusiastically in agreement.

I feel myself blush at the mental image of me, leading Christian by his huge, hard cock.

Sawyer moves to the empty chair at the end of the table, but he looks uncomfortable.

Perhaps I made a mistake insisting on Sawyer's presence.

"Would it be okay, Miss Grey, if we change seats? I need an unobstructed view of the entrance."

"Sure, Sawyer, no problem." Mia and Sawyer swiftly switch seats.

"While the risks are low here, we must still be vigilant."

Jeez, Sawyer sure takes his job seriously. I wonder if all of Christian's security guys are this intense.

"Is this your first time in Montana?" I try to chat Sawyer up and make him feel comfortable.

"Yes, ma'am." Sawyer relaxes a bit and forces a quick smile.

"Please, call me Ana. It's my first time as well. The scenery is breathtaking. The air is so crisp and clean."

A waitress takes our order. We're all having some variation of burger. We decide on two of the huge orders of fries to split. I order a lime phosphate and Christian decides on the huckleberry shake.

"Is Sawyer your first name or last?"

Since I'm the reason that Sawyer is at the table, I feel a responsibility to make him feel included.

"It's Luke Sawyer, ma'am. Security personnel go by their last names."

"Please, call me Ana. Ma'am makes me feel ancient."

"Mr. Grey insists-"

"It's Ana, and I won't answer to anything else."

Christian huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose. What is his problem? I'm not going to be around after Monday, so what difference does it make if security calls me by my first name?

"Where are you and Reynolds staying?"

"There's a cottage for security. It has everything we need."

"Aren't the two of you bored? Why don't you join us tonight and hang out? Mia has planned some games and activities."

"Yes, why don't you and Reynolds join us? The more, the merrier." Mia chimes in.

"Anastasia, may I speak to you outside?"

Christian grasps my shoulders and pulls me up from my seat. He's almost rough. I can feel agitation radiate from his body. We end up on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. I'm fully aware that we're in full view of our companions. I look back at them. Yep, they are watching us.

"What are you doing? Are you trying to get laid? I get it. Sawyer's a good looking fucker. He's my employee, for Christ's sake!"

"Have you gone stark crazy loony tunes? You are so offensive. You cannot speak to me like this. Listen to yourself. I have no sexual or romantic interest in Sawyer. I made him uncomfortable by insisting he come to our table, and to make him more comfortable, I'm simply trying to be friendly. The only person I've ever wanted is you. How can you think so little of me?"

Christian looks embarrassed and focuses his gaze on a sidewalk crack.

"I'm sorry. I've never been jealous before, and I don't know how to handle these new feelings. I want all of your attention."

"You are the only object of my affection. Look at me, Christian." His eyes meet mine. "These feelings are new for me as well. I've never felt jealous before either, but I do with you. I hate the thought of you being with all those women and knowing I can't satisfy you the way they did."

Christian cups my face with his hands and pulls me to him with a gentle, but passionate kiss. I rest my hands on his waist and lean into him. He's apologizing with his lips and telling me, in this moment, that I'm enough for him.

"I'm truly sorry, Anastasia. Please forgive me."

"Forgiven. I'm hungry. Let's go eat."

My words please Christian, and I am rewarded with a quick, chaste kiss to the forehead.

Lunch is a heavy, delicious, calorie laden feast.

I ask Christian for a taste of his shake and he says he'll give it to me in exchange for a taste of my phosphate. We offer up our drinks, one to the other. At the very same moment, his straw is in my mouth and mine in his. Our eyes are locked. Mia snaps a photo with her phone.

"I'm sending this to Mom. It turned out so cute. Look."

I'm surprised by Christian's response.

"It did turn out well. Send it to me as well, please."

Lunch was fun, and before heading back, all of us strolled through downtown Kalispell. Christian and I used the window shopping as an opportunity to hold hands.

When we depart for home, Sawyer follows us in the Suburban.

"Christian, why did you leave home without Sawyer? Why did you break protocol?"

"I wanted to be alone with you. The risks here are low, and I wanted to feel like a regular guy out with a girl. Sawyer called me out on it. It was impulsive of me, and something I won't do again."

It's almost four by the time we get home. Christian and I are responsible for the evening's cocktail hour activities. There isn't much time.

Working as a team, Christian and I dash off in different directions as soon as we get back to the house. Christian staples together the lyrics and reviews the sheet music for the songs. I rush off to the kitchen to make the margaritas. There are only four ingredients: tequila, limeade concentrate, strawberries, and basil. I'm pleased with my pale pink concoction, and I look forward to serving it.

At five o'clock, Christian rounds everyone up and we gather around the piano. I have a pitcher of margaritas, ice bucket, glasses, and napkins arranged on an oversized tray.

Everyone seems curious about our activity.

"Anastasia has prepared cocktails as lubrication for our activity this evening." Christian begins passing out the song lyrics. "We decided a family sing-along would be fun, so we've printed out lyrics for each of you."

Grace and Grandma are very excited and they grasp greedily for the lyrics.

"The songs should be familiar to you. We'll start with The Black-eyed Peas _I've Got a_ _Feelin_ '. Then we'll move in the following order: _Moon River_ , _High Hopes_ , and _Somewhere Out There._ Anastasia and I hope you enjoy the songs we selected."

Christian has his iPad propped on the music rack. "Mia, could you sit with me and swipe the pages as I play?" Mia joins Christian on the bench.

I'm impressed at how accomplished the family is. Apparently the whole family is musical. Grace and Christian are pianists. Mia is primarily a cellist, but also plays a bit of piano. Both Carrick and Elliot play guitar.

With his rich baritone, Christian leads us in song. The family looks at each other as if they've never heard him sing before. After a few beats, they all join in, and I smile to myself as I hear how beautifully all the voices blend together. Kate has a glorious voice, and her face is a picture of pure joy. I can't sing a note, and not wanting to inflict my wretched voice on anyone, I mouth the words.

Grandpa's eyes water as we sing _High Hopes_. Christian told me the song was special to the two of them. No doubt, Grandpa is recalling memories of a very young Christian. I'm sure my weekend lover was an adorable boy.

When we finish up with _Somewhere Out There_ , everyone cheers and applauds.

"That was so much fun! Whose idea was that?" Mia is bounces up and down with glee. Her high energy level is enviable.

"It was Anastasia's idea. She talked me into it. We have another sing-along planned for tomorrow evening."

"How did you select the songs?" Grandma asks. "And why weren't you singing, Ana? Don't think we didn't notice!"

"I can't carry a tune in a bucket! Kate can attest to that." Kate nods her head vigorously. "Even though I can't sing, I enjoyed myself very much. Christian selected _Moon River_ , because he said it's your favorite. As for the other songs, we both chose _I Got a_ _Feeling_. I selected _Somewhere Out There_ , because I've always found it comforting. Christian selected _High_ _Hopes_ , because he remembers Gramps singing it, to remind Christian that he could overcome any obstacle."

"Thank you both very much," Grandma presses kisses to our cheeks, first mine, then Christian's. "You are both sweethearts. Which songs have you selected for tomorrow?"

"That's a secret," Christian warns. "But I'm going to have to let El and Mia in on it. I need their help."

It's time to move on to a pre-dinner game. In front of the fireplace is a large whiteboard on an easel. Mia has arranged teams for Pictionary. Apparently the Greys play this fairly regularly, but Christian must not participate, because he acts as if this is his first Pictionary experience. The Greys have their own rules, allowing for symbols and a couple of hand signals.

This evening Christian and I are reunited as a team. Christian proves to be an excellent artist and communicator, and I easily decipher his drawings. Despite my inability to draw anything beyond stick figures, Christian and I outperform everyone else. We had some easy words like pennant, candy, and treasure. We also had the most difficult: darkness, vegetarian, and hydrogen.

For the hydrogen clue, I drew a model of a hydrogen atom, and within three seconds Christian had it. Everyone gasped at our speed. Christian and I took the opportunity to showboat a bit, jumping up and down, high fiving each other, doing a happy dance, and generally acting obnoxious. It was fun sharing all that silliness with Christian.

After the game, as we were getting ready for dinner, Grace pulled me aside.

"You and Christian make quite a formidable team. The two of you are well-matched. You make him work for it, Ana, and he needs that. He's so used to being alone. It warms my heart to see him participating with all of us and acting his age. I do hope you two will see each other socially after you move to Seattle."

"As fond as I am of Christian, I don't see that happening. Christian's time is so consumed with his business." No need for Grace to get her hopes up for something that won't happen. She's crestfallen, so I offer her a crumb. "But you never know. Perhaps Christian and I will find a way to stay in touch."

"Even if you and Christian don't maintain contact, would it be possible for the two of us to have lunch occasionally? I'd like to keep up with you, and get to know you better."

"Of course, Grace, I'd like that. I've already given my contact information to Mia, so you can get it from her."

"Thank you, darling." Grace pats my arm affectionately.

After the sing-along and Pictionary, spirits are high. The dinner discussion is lively. Christian is an equal participant, at one point even joining forces with Kate to berate Elliot over his apparently very sweaty feet.

I notice Christian checking my plate occasionally to appraise how much I am eating. Dinner is divine, and the day's activities have fueled my appetite. I've no problem putting away prime rib, spinach salad, baked potato, green beans, and for dessert, chocolate cheesecake.

After dinner we all take a long, slow stroll around the property. The conversation is spirited with much sibling banter. It pleases me to see Christian relaxed, enjoying the companionship of his family. There's an invigorating chill in the air and when we return, I feel refreshed.

Christian, Elliot, and Mia meet up to discuss a Mother's Day surprise for Grace and Grandma, while Kate and I prepare breakfast casseroles and fruit salad for tomorrow morning.

I've been trying to play the part of the cool girl, the one who is in control of her emotions. I'm barely holding my act together. Being someone I'm not is very fatiguing.

It's close to ten. I'm tired and want to crawl into bed, preferably with Christian, but he's still in his dad's study with Mia and Elliot. I don't want to be presumptuous and climb into his bed. It's best to retire to my assigned room, leaving the door unlocked for Christian in case he decides to join me.

I'm almost asleep, when I hear footsteps. I don't have to look up. I know it's Christian.

"May I climb in with you? For the night?"

"Of course."

"I've never slept as well as I have with you, Ana."

"I like when you call me Ana."

"And also when I call you baby."

"Yes."

"I talked to my psychiatrist about you."

"And what conclusion did the two of you draw? Do I need to be institutionalized or just medicated?"

"Watch that smart mouth, Anastasia, or I may have to spank you again."

"Promises, promises."

"The conclusion drawn is that I have a big, fat crush on you. You're my first crush."

"That's funny, because I have a mad, crazy crush on you. And you're my first crush."

"We make a strange pair of twenty-somethings."

"Strange or not, I like us together. Kiss me, Mr. Grey."

"We aim to please, Miss Steele."


	10. Mother's Day

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 10**

 **Mother's Day**

 **Sunday, May 8, 2011**

 **Christian**

Sex last night was playful. I've never laughed so much. Anastasia and I were up most of the night. We started out in Anastasia's room and ended up in mine. I got to introduce my girl to oral sex, and she told me over and over again how much she loved it, both the giving and receiving.

We took a break around 2 am, when Anastasia decided she had to show me something.

"I need your laptop, so I can show you tomorrow's game."

I retrieve the MacBook from the corner where it's been charging. Anastasia quickly finds a YouTube video.

"This is called the Condom Challenge, and I think it makes a fun game. I've seen my friends, José and Travis, do this. We already have the condoms."

I pull her close as we watch the video. You fill the condom up with water, like a water balloon, but you don't tie it off. The idea is to drop it squarely on your partner's head, without breaking the condom. If dropped accurately, the water-filled condom covers the recipient's head and face like a giant bubble. It does look like we could turn it into an entertaining game.

"We should set rules, like the condom must be dropped from a height of at least three feet above the partner's head. We'll just keep eliminating teams until we decide on a winner. With all the water sloshing around, we should do this in the hot tub or at least on the deck. Everyone can get into swimsuits. You and I need to practice so we can demonstrate. Get in the shower."

That's my bossy Anastasia.

I'm already naked. I step into the shower, while Anastasia fills a condom.

"Sit on the shower floor. I'll stand on my tiptoes and drop it. Ready?"

"Guess so."

Suddenly I feel my face heavy with the weight of the water filled condom. Anastasia has successfully dropped it on my head, and her laughter bubbles with pleasure and amusement.

"You are a vision. Naked with a condom draped over your head!"

I pull the condom off and it breaks, sending water everywhere.

"It's my turn to practice on you."

I reach out of the shower for a condom, and quickly fill it from the sink faucet. Anastasia sits naked on the shower floor, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her delicate shoulder blades move up and down, as she giggles in anticipation of the water-filled condom.

"Ready?"

"Give it your best shot." She straightens up and closes her eyes.

I drop the condom and it lands squarely on her head.

"Yessssss!" I pump my fist, proud of my first attempt. "We've got this!"

Anastasia laughs as she pulls off the condom.

"You really are a lot of fun." That's something I've never been accused of before.

My girl thinks I'm fun.

She grips a fistful of my hair, looks deeply into my eyes, and rims my lips with her tongue.

I answer her with a long, deep, possessive kiss.

"You are mine, Anastasia. Do you understand? You are mine."

"Yes, I am yours."

Her hands move to my buttocks, where her fingers lightly brush over my skin. She gradually adds pressure until she is kneading and squeezing both of my cheeks. The sensation feels new and exciting. Elena never touched me this way, and I certainly never allowed a submissive to touch me in this manner.

The only thing submissives touched was my cock, and that was usually with their mouths only. I never knew how good it feels to have fingers in my hair, on my face, my neck, my buttocks, my legs.

Oh, Anastasia, the things you do to me.

We finally fall asleep around five and wake at eight when Mia bangs on our door.

Anastasia and I make it down to the kitchen for the last of the breakfast casserole. It's delicious. I know it's Anastasia's recipe and she did most of the preparation. I could eat anything Anastasia put in front of me and happily live out the rest of my days.

When it's time for the opening of the Mother's Day gifts, I pull my beautiful girl onto my lap and squeeze us into a leather club chair. Everyone studies us curiously, maybe just to see the two of us together this way, but probably because Anastasia has her head and torso resting on my shoulder and chest. She nuzzles my neck, runs one hand up and down my arm, and it's very soothing. It's our last full day together and we're both trying to make the most of it.

Mother and Grandmother appreciate the teas gifted by Katherine and Anastasia. They are especially touched by whatever the girls wrote in the cards.

Dad and Grandpa give their spouses jewelry. Mother receives a three strand pearl choker. Grandfather presents Grandmother with a shamrock for her gold charm bracelet, declaring himself to be the luckiest SOB on the planet. Anastasia admires both pieces of jewelry, and this makes me think how much I'd enjoy spoiling her.

My siblings have outdone themselves with homemade gifts. Mia has created CDs of herself singing and playing the cello. Elliot crafted small boxes from koa boards he purchased during his last surfing trip to Kauai. Anastasia is impressed with both gifts.

"Mia, you're a double threat. You play an instrument and you can sing. It's wonderful to be so blessed."

"Well, Mom insisted that we each learn an instrument, a martial art, and a foreign language."

"That's wonderful. I'll have to remember that when I have children. I'm afraid I have no ear for music or languages, and I'm way too awkward for any kind of physical pursuit."

The thought of Anastasia having children pains me. I don't want children, but I don't want another man sharing that experience with her. Suddenly I remember Ros and Gwen, and the discussion I must have with them on Tuesday.

"C'mon, Banana, you must not be too clumsy. You seem to be getting the job done with Chrissy."

"Shut up, El, are you trying to embarrass her?" I pull Anastasia closer to me. I can't see her face, as it's buried in my neck, but I'm certain it's rubescent.

"You're the one doing that, what with you screaming her name all night long. Jeez, Bro, I thought I had stamina."

"Elliot, stop this right now. Consider Ana's feelings." My father is suddenly concerned about my girl's feelings. Isn't that rich?

"I'm sorry, Banana. Since you like the koa boxes so much, how about I make one for you and one for Kate? For graduation. I have enough koa."

"That would be lovely. The bridle joints you used on the top panel of the box are perfect. I love the color. It reminds me of Christian's hair." My girl runs her fingers through my hair. It's bliss, and I close my eyes as she rakes her nails gently across my scalp.

"The color ranges from the red shades like this to deep chocolate browns. Koa is easy to work with, easy to carve. It's heavy and strong like black walnut." Elliot drones on about the damn wood.

I open my eyes and everyone's staring, studying me like a zoo animal. Yes, there's a girl on my lap and she's running her fingers through my hair, touching my hands and arms. They've seen Elliot in the same situation. Hell, right now he has his hand running up and down Katherine's thigh.

"Mother. Grandmother. Are either of you going to open the gifts I got for you?"

"I don't have my glasses. Mia, could you please open the envelope for me and tell me what's inside."

Of course, Mia helped choose the gift, so she already knows what's inside. She carefully opens the envelope, and hands the letter to Grandmother.

"It's from Itzhak Perlman, saying how delighted he will be to share a private luncheon with you when he guest conducts the Seattle Symphony later this year."

"Oh, my word! Christian, thank you sweetheart. How did you know meeting Perlman was on my bucket list?"

"Mia told me. I simply followed through on her suggestion."

"Thank you, dear boy."

Mother opens the Tiffany box and is quite surprised. Usually I give her pink diamonds, something over the top. She is, after all, an over the top mother. She's the best and she deserves the best.

"It's lovely, Christian. I'll wear it often and always remember this weekend."

"Well, that's the idea. It symbolizes our family. The three leaves represent Elliot, Mia, and me. The two supporting branches represent you and Dad."

"Darling, it's perfect." Damn, she's got tears running down her face. She's cried more this weekend than she has in the previous twenty-four years. "I want to put it on right now. Mia, can you help me?"

"Sure, Mom. Hey, El and Kate, when are you launching your last activity?"

The brooch looks beautiful on Mother's crisp blue blouse. It's perfect. Anastasia has unerring taste and judgment.

"Dad kicked our idea to the curb and he's taken over. Ask him."

"Well, Dad?" We all look at him expectantly.

"Kate gave me the idea at dinner, when she mentioned a dude ranch she and her family once visited. I've arranged a two-hour trail ride through Flathead Valley. Garza has already transported Jack, Ace, and Star to Rocking Spur Ranch. Cecil, the ranch owner, has five additional mounts that should be nice matches for our group. Sawyer will accompany us. Reynolds will drive Margaret and Theo, and they'll meet us at noon for a chuck wagon lunch at the ranch."

Anastasia clutches my arm. She's either very excited or very frightened. Or perhaps both.

"Mr. Grey, I've never ridden a horse before."

"Not a problem, Ana. There's a very gentle horse just the right size for you."

"That's so exciting. I've always wanted to ride a horse." Anastasia throws her arms around my neck in zeal.

"I'm going to ride a horse!" She jumps up and hugs Kate. Anastasia is like a kid on Christmas morning. Seeing her so thrilled tugs at my heart.

XXXXXXX

Anastasia is beautiful in a tartan flannel shirt and jeans tucked into boots.

"Thank you for the clothes. I feel like a tall cowgirl in these boots. I love this down vest, Christian; it's exactly the same gray color as your eyes. It will help me remember you."

"You're the prettiest cowgirl I've ever seen. Come, let me French braid your hair."

"Is there nothing you can't do?"

I grab her hairbrush and get rid of any tangles. I hand her the hair tie.

"Hold that until I'm ready for it. There's plenty I can't do."

"Like what? You're the most competent person I've ever met."

"I can't be normal."

"Normal is overrated. I like you the way you are."

"You don't know enough about me. If you really knew me, you wouldn't like me."

"Where's this coming from? I'm not normal either. Most girls don't lose their virginity and graduate college at the same time. You have the touch phobia, but I've got my own issues. Actually I don't know any normal people, so normalcy is probably some kind of suburban legend."

"What issues do you have?" She's perfect. What could possibly be wrong?

"I resent my mother and her marriages, and I'm sure that has something to do with my relationship status. And we sort of joked about it, but maybe I do have daddy issues…I enjoy sitting in your lap way too much, and then there's the spanking. Jeez… And I have self-esteem issues, too."

"Do you need to see my therapist?"

"I can't afford that, but one day maybe I'll talk to someone. I visited the mental health clinic at school a couple of times. It didn't help a bit. Do you see your therapist very often?"

"Yes. I went twice last week. I've been seeing a therapist of one type or another since I was four. The one I currently see practices solution-focused brief therapy. Truthfully, I don't always engage with him, and I haven't put much work into my treatment plan."

"What is solution-focused brief therapy? Is it better than other therapies?"

"I like it because we don't rehash the past over and over again. We concentrate on the present and future, one problem at a time, though I haven't found a resolution to any of my issues yet. Lately I've been trying to manage my family's expectations."

"Your family doesn't seem very demanding. What kind of expectations do you need to manage?"

"They want me to hang out with them all the time. They'd like for me to have friends. They'd probably like to touch me, hug me. Things like that."

"I see."

"You look lovely in this braid. Do you like it?"

I enjoy having my hands in Anastasia's hair.

This is another first.

I styled Elena's hair because she demanded it. I've braided my submissives' hair because of safety. But I style Anastasia's hair because I enjoy touching her and doing things for her.

"I love it, Christian. Thank you."

"Bring your beanie, scarf, and gloves. It's windy out there."

XXXXXXX

I help Anastasia onto her horse, a Rocky Mountain gelding named Romeo.

"Stay close, please," she implores. Her desire for my protection makes me feel important.

"Always. Even when you don't see me, I'll be nearby." Anastasia has no idea how many layers of meaning my statement carries. I will figure out ways to stay in her life and keep her safe.

"It's ironic you should be riding a horse named Lucky. The universe is speaking to you, Mr. Grey."

Lucky is a Palomino filly, young, spirited, and in need of a firm hand. In that way, I suppose she is the perfect mount for a Dom.

"Stop the sass, Miss Steele, or I'll show you what 'lucky' really means." My words are laced with sexual innuendo.

Both Katherine and Elliot are riding Appaloosas. It's obvious Katherine is an experienced rider. She displays great confidence.

My parents and Mia are riding their own mounts, American Quarter Horses.

Anastasia is the only novice, but she exhibits such enthusiasm, I have no doubt she'll be just fine. Her horse is docile and well-trained.

"Ana, do you want me to hang back with you?" Katherine is probing to determine if I'm going to take care of Anastasia.

"No, you go with Elliot and Mia. Christian promised to stay back with me. I'm comfortable with Romeo."

"Romeo Horse? Romeo Grey? Or both?" Katherine jokes.

"Both." Ana laughs appreciatively. "Thanks, Bug."

Anastasia and I stay well back from the group. Sawyer pulls up the rear, keeping us in view, but from a discreet distance.

The temperature is cool, in the mid '50s, but the sun is high and bright. Today the sky decided to color coordinate with Anastasia's eyes.

"Christian, will you promise me something? Well, actually two things."

"Of course."

"Will you promise to never speak about me to another woman? It would taint things, I think, if you spoke about the things we've done. I especially don't want you to talk to your friend. Grace's friend. Your Mrs. Robinson. Will you promise?"

"Okay. I promise." I don't why Anastasia is so concerned about Elena, but it's a small thing Anastasia is asking of me. "What else is bothering you?"

"After tomorrow, we'll see each other again at commencement. Please promise things won't be weird between us. You indicated that after you finish with a woman, you don't speak to her anymore. If we run into each other at the ceremony, or some other place, can we please greet each other?"

"Just so you know, what I've done with you has been different. You mean more to me than any submissive ever could. We're friends. I would never make things awkward between us."

"Oh, that's a relief. I thought you'd ignore me."

"Never. I could never ignore you. I was initially upset when my PR folks suggested I accept the graduation gig. Now I'm thrilled. It means I'll be with you for an important milestone. Will I meet your parents?"

"My mother cancelled. Her husband broke his foot, so she needs to stay home and attend to him. My dad will be there, as will José. I have extra tickets now, so I'll offer one to José's dad, and give the other to Kate for her extended family. José's father and mine are best friends. After graduation, we'll all go out for an early dinner with the Kavanaghs."

Perhaps I'll meet her dad, and also get to size up that asshole, José.

"Will Katherine's brother be there?"

"Yes. Ethan will be there. He's great fun. He'll be a wonderful roommate."

"It's none of my business, but have you and Ethan ever fooled around?"

"It's none of your business, but no. Ethan and I are strictly friends."

Thank fuck. I still don't like the idea of him sharing an apartment with Anastasia.

"I just wondered if he was one of the boys you've kissed."

"No. One was a high school study buddy and the other was at a party freshman year. Neither were important players in my life."

"Did they feel you up?" My blood boils at the thought of another man having his hands on Anastasia.

"Considering all the women in your life, I don't understand why you want to know. Did you grill your submissives about their sexual histories?"

"In order to assess their experience levels, I inquired about past Doms. But beyond that, I had no need or desire to know. With you, it's different. You truly are mine."

"The answer is no. They did not feel me up. It's only been you. You know this, Christian. Only you."

 **Anastasia**

I don't know why Christian wants to rehash my non-existent romantic history. I certainly have no inclination toward delving into his past. It would just leave me feeling jealous and inadequate.

Romeo was chosen for me because of his gentle nature. He is also on the small side, only fourteen hands high. Romeo is calm and forgiving of my inexperience. He is also handsome, with his glossy chocolate brown color, gorgeous silver mane and tail.

Christian takes out his phone and snaps several photos of me with Romeo.

My two Romeos, the human and the equine, make my first trail ride a sweet experience.

Lunch is a heavy affair served from a quaint old chuck wagon. There's bison sirloin, mashed potatoes with gravy, corn on the cob, cowboy beans, and sourdough rolls. I have no room for the berry cobbler dessert, but Elliot eats my portion, and then some.

When we get back to the house, Christian announces that everyone will be getting wet and needs to dress appropriately. It's close to two and the afternoon sun will be a welcome accompaniment to our activity.

I pull out the box of condoms and count them. There are twenty-three left, which means we've used thirteen, two of them for the condom challenge. Doing the math, eleven condoms have been in my vagina. No wonder I'm so damned sore. Hopefully there will be more sex before tomorrow morning, so I hold back three. That leaves twenty for our game, which should be plenty.

Everyone gathers around us on the deck, in swimsuits and towels. The temperature is now in the mid-60s.

I place the condom box on a table, and of course Elliot zeroes in on it.

"What's this about? And the box says there are supposed to be thirty-six in here. Where are the rest?"

Elliot rifles through the box, counting condoms.

"What the hell? I've kept my dick in my pants all weekend long, and you two have used sixteen condoms! What are we going to do with these?"

"Get in the tub, El. It's chilly. Everyone in the hot tub," Christian orders. "Anastasia and I have a game planned, and we need to demonstrate."

"This is going to be one interesting demonstration. You up for this, Theo?" Grandma nudges Grandpa.

"I haven't seen one of those things in decades," Grandpa replies. "It looks like they've made some improvements over the years."

"Those condoms have definitely captured my interest," Carrick says, looking to Grace.

Once everyone is settled in the tub, Christian gets the group's attention by holding up a condom.

"Watch and learn, everybody. Ana is going to put a condom on my head."

"Jesus, Chrissy. Nobody wants to see that shit. Isn't it enough for you and Banana to rut like weasels all the damn day?"

"Elliot! Watch your language. Ana and Christian would never do anything inappropriate." I don't know why Grace is so certain of that. It feels as if Christian and I are willing and capable of all kinds of inappropriate acts.

Christian reaches down and pulls up a garden hose, filling the condom. He hands it to me and I stand, perched on the edge of the tub, dropping the condom squarely on Christian's head.

Everyone whoops and hollers, laughing loudly. Mia steps out of the tub for her phone and snaps a photo of Christian peering through the water-filled condom, which is draped neatly over his head.

Christian flicks the balloon away, and the water splashes Elliot in the face.

"The goal is to see which team can drop the condoms accurately and without breakage. Ana will be Mia's partner. I'll be busy filling the condoms. Mom and Dad, you're first up."

"Those condoms are extra large," Kate whispers to me. "Lucky you."

"What can I say…he's a very big boy." We giggle naughtily.

Grace and Mr. Grey have bad luck, with neither able to accurately drop the condom. Mia's drop bounces off my head and the water splatters all over Mr. Grey. Grandma and Grandpa are each successful, as are Elliot and Kate. Round Two is Grandparents versus Team Kelliot, and results in Margaret and Theo reigning victorious.

Christian has arranged for Mrs. Garza to serve cocktails in the hot tub after the competition. We toast the Trevelyans, and we enjoy some lively post-contest conversation.

"That was terrific fun. Son, we've seen a whole new side of you this weekend. You act your own age for the first time." Carrick says this in awe and wonder.

"How old does he usually act?" Kate asks.

"Like an old man, Katie Girl, a very grumpy old man. Must be all that good lovin' he's getting from Banana."

"Elliot, what did I tell you about embarrassing Ana?"

Mr. Grey seems to genuinely care about my feelings. While I have forgiven him, I remain a tad wary.

"It's fine, Mr. Grey. Elliot means no harm. I'm a bit chilled. Excuse me while I go inside and freshen up."

I want to shower and look nice for our last dinner here. I also need to pack my things in my new luggage.

As I get up to leave, I hear the others making noise about doing the same thing.

I go to my room and leave the door unlocked, hoping Christian will join me while I shower. Just as I move under the warm water, he arrives, in all his naked glory.

 **Christian**

The water isn't hot enough to suit me, but I'm invading Anastasia's shower, so I won't complain. I plant tiny, tender kisses on her face and neck. She is so small, so soft, so sweet.

"Your dick is insatiable, Christian. Always ready to go."

"You do things to me. Are you too sore for another go?"

"Yes, if we're going for one last hoorah tonight, my vagina needs a bit of a rest. However, my mouth is happy to show your beautiful cock some appreciation."

Before I can respond, Anastasia is on her knees, sucking like a Hoover, deep throating better than Linda Lovelace. Just in the short course of this weekend, her skills have evolved exponentially. By tomorrow morning, she'll probably be as good as a Vegas pro. The thought is unsettling.

I'll go insane if I allow myself to think of Anastasia sucking and fucking other men.

I've never been jealous or possessive of my submissives. The subs never belonged to me the way Anastasia does. The contracts require monogamy, but that has to do with mutual respect and sexual health.

I gaze at my beautiful Anastasia. This infatuation I feel for her is so different from any emotion I've felt before. It twists and knots deep in my gut. It's primal, raw, and frighteningly powerful.

I come quickly. She swallows every drop of cum, finishing with a gorgeous smile.

"Thank you for the tasty treat, Mr. Grey."

She's perfect in every possible way.

 **Anastasia**

Christian has washed my hair and styled it in a side braid. Apparently he has a thing for brown hair and braids. I'm curious about all the things he's into, but too afraid of the answers to ask the questions.

It's almost time for the sing-along, and I've had nothing to do with this one. Christian put this together with the help of Mia and Elliot. They've planned a special song for Grace and Grandma.

We make it downstairs before the others, and while he warms up at the piano, I head to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. I meet Mrs. Garza in the kitchen and end up helping her make the hors d'oeuvres, bacon-wrapped dates and spicy pecans. According to Mrs. Garza, both are Grey family favorites.

Our menu is roasted tomato soup, bison prime rib, grilled artichoke hearts, sautéed broccoli rabe, and baked sweet potatoes. For dessert, Mrs. Garza has made blueberry pie and chocolate mousse pie.

I'm a foodie, but I've never heard of broccoli rabe, much less eaten it. Mrs. Garza prepares a sample for me.

"Here Miss Ana, have some. That way you can honestly say you've experienced it before dinner tonight."

We laugh together conspiratorially. She knows my palate is unsophisticated, and this is her way of giving me confidence. Her kindness is much appreciated, and the broccoli rabe is delicious.

Mrs. Garza explains that the bison we will eat tonight came from stock here on the ranch. She also confides that chocolate cake is Christian's favorite dessert.

"Mr. Christian doesn't visit this house very often, and I think it makes the Greys especially happy to have everyone together. He is different this trip, happier somehow. Maybe you have something to do with that."

Kate drags me away from the kitchen and into the great room, where everyone is gathered around the piano. Christian seems relieved to see me.

"Mom and Grandma, it's Mother's Day, and in your honor Christian, Elliot, and I have prepared a song. Sit back and enjoy. We love you both very much."

Christian's long, elegant fingers move across the keyboard, and three beautiful voices lift in song. The tune is immediately recognizable. It's _You Raise Me Up_ , made famous by Josh Groban. The Grey children deliver a glorious rendition, and there's not a dry eye in the house.

The six of us on the sectional applaud loudly. Mia rises from the piano bench she has been sharing with Christian. She hands out lyrics, and announces the rest of the songs.

"We also want to honor the visit of our new friends, Kate and Ana. The first song is _Kate_ by Ben Folds and then the old Shaker hymn, _Simple Gifts_. We want everyone to join in. The last song is _That's What Friends Are For_."

 _Kate_ is so much fun that I actually sing some of it out loud. I can't help but giggle at the lyric, "I think she smokes pot." Elliot accompanies Christian by banging out a beat with a wooden spoon and a pan.

 _Simple Gifts_ is one of my favorite songs, and Kate must have let this slip at some point over the weekend. I close my eyes and take in all the voices, hoping I'll always remember this experience.

 _That's What Friends Are For_ , which I feared would be sad and emotional, turns into a raucous affair, with Elliot and Kate singing loudly and dancing around the room.

Dinner is served family style, and as Mrs. Garza hands me the platter of broccoli rabe, I catch her eye. I turn to Mr. Grey and tell him how I adore broccoli rabe and what a treat it is to have for dinner. Mrs. Garza winks at me, and we enjoy our shared secret.

During our meal, Mia announces a post-dinner dance contest, and she appoints Grandma and Grandpa Trevelyan as judges.

"Christian, I need a dance partner. Call Sawyer or Reynolds. Tell one of them to come up to the house to dance with me. They're both cute, so I'm not particular." Mia laughs when she sees Christian's irritation.

"I am NOT calling security, just so you can have a dance partner. That's an abuse of power, Mia."

"Mia, I can't dance a step," I offer up. "You and Christian can partner up."

"No, Ana, you two are a team. Besides, I don't want my brother as a partner, when there are two scrumptious single guys within yards of us. Pleeeezzzz, Chrissy, pleeezzz. I would be ever so grateful. Please get Sawyer or Reynolds."

Christian's will is no match for Mia's sweet pout. Mia has Christian completely wrapped, and it's amusing to watch. Christian pulls out his phone, and leaves the room. I'm sure he doesn't want any of us to hear how he will spin this with Sawyer and Reynolds.

Ten minutes later, Sawyer is at the door, with a tense smile planted on his face. Mia is overjoyed and pulls him into the room, explaining why he needs to be her perfect dance partner.

Grandma and Grandpa announce that three songs will be played. With each song, one couple will be eliminated. Grace and Carrick are granted the privilege of choosing the first song. They decide on a Bee Gees number, _How Deep is Your Love_. They strategize that the three younger couples won't know how to dance to disco music, thus giving themselves an advantage.

"I can't dance," I confess to Christian. "Maybe we should throw in the towel."

"Never concede defeat. This is why I'm a billionaire and you aren't." Christian winks at me. "Let's go for it, Anastasia. Keep your eyes on mine. Follow my lead and let your body feel the music."

For the next four minutes, I submit to Christian's every move. He twirls, turns, swings, and lifts me. He pulls me close and pushes me away. Christian possesses my body, and gently forces me to do his bidding. At the end of the song, he dips me. We stand to see everyone gaping at us.

"Ana, that was fabulous." Kate looks astonished. "I didn't know you could dance like that."

"Neither did I. That was Christian's doing." I'm breathless from exertion.

"Son, where'd you learn to dance like that? I had no idea."

"It was an extracurricular activity. Didn't they have ballroom dance when you were at Harvard?"

"I don't think so. You certainly mastered it." Carrick smiles in admiration.

"Theo and I have conferred. Sorry, Elliot, you and Kate danced well, but disco is not your forte. You've been eliminated. Join us and help judge the next round. Mia, you choose the next selection."

Mia docks her iPod and pulls up Shakira's _Hips Don't Lie_. I know she's going to enjoy this dance with Sawyer.

"Remember, Anastasia, eyes on me. Feel me, feel the music." Christian pulls me close, and our eyes lock. With his hands on my hips, he moves me gently from side to side, guiding me, showing me how to roll my hips. Christian helps me find a rhythm, and as I gain confidence, I raise my arms above my head, slowly running my hands down my body.

"That's right. Feel it. Close your eyes." Christian pulls me against him, my back to his front. He grinds against me and I push back. I reach back and wrap one arm around his neck, while he bends down to kiss my neck. The song is over way too soon.

"Dayum, Bro. I thought you were going to fuck Ana right in front of us."

"Elliot Trevelyan-Gray! Watch your language!" Grace is on the warpath.

"Mom, I'm a member of the jury, so I'm allowed to comment. You and Dad have been eliminated. It seems little brother has moves. He's been holding out on us."

"It's your choice now, Christian." Grandpa gives us a wink and a smile.

"Anything by Sinatra is fine. You choose."

Christian whispers in my ear. "This will be a fox trot. Simply follow my lead, and just as you did before, do little things to make the dance your own."

"Okay, kids," Carrick announces. " _Witchcraft_."

Christian circles my waist and pulls my body against his. I grasp the top of his shoulder, and after all the things we've done to and with each other, touching him there doesn't faze him a bit. Christian twirls and whirls me around the floor. He releases my hand and places both of his hands on my waist. My hands move up around his neck and into his hair. His lead is confident and sure.

I look up, and at some point, Mia and Sawyer stopped dancing. All eyes are on us. Christian takes my right hand, and we move back into our original hold with my left hand on his shoulder. When we finish, Christian dips me again. He glows with affection and pride, and pulls me into a hug. We receive a hearty round of applause.

"Son, sure wish we had one of those mirror ball trophies, because you and Ana earned one." Grandpa beams. "The Trevelyan-Grey family dance award goes to Christian and Ana."

Grandma and Grace are in tears, holding each other. Everyone looks so happy for us. Kate catches my eye and winks.

We visit and enjoy after dinner drinks. It's relaxing, and I have reached a high comfort level with the entire family, even Carrick Grey.

Kate pulls me out onto the deck.

"Our last night in Montana…how's everything?"

"I'm good. I'd like for Christian to say he wants to see me again, but he sends mixed signals. How about you and Elliot?"

"Elliot is coming to visit next weekend, and he'll be at graduation."

"Oh, Bug, that's wonderful." We embrace and I share her happiness.

"The trail ride today was all about you. It was Carrick's attempt to replace his bad behavior with a good memory." Kate throws her head back and laughs. "Carrick Grey is your bitch now, and I don't think there's any favor he wouldn't do to get in your good graces."

"Grace must have put him up to it."

"It may have started out that way, but I believe Carrick truly respects and admires you. I want you to know, so you won't ever worry about him again."

"Thanks. He really has been kind and attentive today."

"Relax and enjoy your last few hours here. I'm going upstairs to climb in the bath. I'm feeling achy and tired. See you in the morning."

"I think I'll turn in too. Tomorrow will be a long day, with the flight and our drive back to Vancouver."

We return to the great room and Kate whispers something to Elliot.

I quickly move around the room to hug everyone good night, thanking them for the lovely day. I look back to see Christian and Elliot sparring with kickboxing moves. I think the interaction between the brothers surprises the Greys.

"Good night, Mr. Grey. Thank you for a wonderful day. I especially enjoyed the trail ride."

"It's Carrick. And I'm so glad you enjoyed yourself. See you in the morning."

Elliot sees me head upstairs

"Banana! Have fun tonight dancing the horizontal mambo."

Christian playfully and affectionately gives Elliot the finger. Elliot returns the gesture with both middle fingers.

 **Christian**

I catch up to Anastasia outside the door to her room.

"Your place or mine?" I smirk playfully, trying to get my flirt on. I'm rewarded with a giggle.

"You're the Dom. You choose." She smiles sweetly.

"How about mine? I've got a copy of the contract to show you."

"Okay. Let me change. I'll meet you in your room." Anastasia is flush with excitement.

She's so beautiful. I've made a decision. I do not want to say goodbye to Anastasia, so I've decided to offer her a contract. I want to train her, teach her all she needs to know. She is mine, and I mean to keep her so.

I kiss Anastasia's adorable nose, and turn into my room, wanting to strip out of these clothes as quickly as possible. I throw on my pajama pants.

Anastasia is different from a sub, so I consider how to present the contract. I should set a relaxing, seductive scene. Shirtless and barefoot, I move quickly downstairs to grab some wine.

Shit. Mother, Grandmother, and Mia are still up, watching a movie. I pad to the kitchen as quietly as possible, but nothing gets past them. They study me as I grab a bottle of Bollinger from the wine fridge, a corkscrew, and two champagne flutes. Grandmother winks at me. I nod and grunt out another good-night to the trio.

I expect Anastasia to be in my room when I return, but she's not. It's late, nearly midnight.

I dig out the copy of the contract. I hope my sweet Anastasia is receptive.

I dock the iPod, choosing soft jazz. Grover Washington's _Winelight_ fills the room. Shit. I wish I had some candles. Isn't that what women like?

The door opens slowly. It's Anastasia.

She's so beautiful in that satin robe. I pull her to me, and untie the robe. Underneath I find a surprise. She's wearing a sheer pale blue babydoll and thong. Sweet Jesus. I palm her breasts and kiss her with fervor and need.

"Christian, as much as I want to fool around, could we look at the contract first?" She's curious, eager for information.

We prop up pillows and crawl into bed. I hand her the all-important contract.

"Would you like some champagne?" Anastasia nods. "Let's go through it page by page. I'll explain as we go. Start reading and I'll pour the wine."

Anastasia quickly flips through the contract.

"It's so detailed. Holy crap, this is twelve pages long. Christian!"

Anastasia's voice is tinged with alarm and apprehension.

"What's wrong?"

"Our names are on this. Are you expecting me to become your submissive?"


	11. Goodbye Girl

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 11**

 **Goodbye Girl**

 **Monday, May 9, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

"Yes, Anastasia, I have a proposal for you. I'd like to continue our relationship past this weekend. I'd very much like a Dominant/submissive relationship with you."

I had hoped Christian would want to date me, but knowing that to be unlikely, I prepared myself for rejection.

I'm completely unprepared for the suggestion that I become his submissive.

"Have you felt this way since we first met? Has this always been your plan?"

"From the moment we met, I've felt the strongest attraction to you. It's much more powerful than anything I've ever felt before. Within five minutes of meeting you, I considered making you my submissive. After getting to know you, I dismissed the idea."

"If you dismissed it, then why have you come back to it?"

"I want to continue seeing you, and this is the only kind of relationship I have with women."

"And you don't see any other way?"

On the face of it, I find absolutely nothing appealing about BDSM. There is surely more to it than I know, so I need to keep an open mind and hear him out. I pride myself on not being judgmental, and that's being tested right now.

"Look, the contract is just a starting place. Read it, and then we'll go over it, negotiating and refining our limits."

Damn it! He's avoiding my question. I ask again.

"Is this the only kind of relationship you'd consider having with me?"

"It's all I know. This weekend has been an experiment for me. It's been wonderful, but I don't know if I can maintain a traditional vanilla relationship. It's just not how I'm made."

"If I turn down this contract, can we be friends?"

"What kind of friends? Friends with benefits? Facebook friends?" He snorts derisively.

"I don't know. I've never done any of this before. Maybe friends with benefits. Or maybe friends who meet for coffee, go out to movies, meet for dinner."

"I don't want some loosey-goosey fuck buddy relationship. And I don't want to coffee klatsch with you. I want a structured sexual relationship, with a schedule, rules, and punishments. I want your submission, or I don't want anything at all."

"I see."

I'm trying to be the cool girl again, and not show the hurt I feel. We confessed our mutual crushes, and that had given me hope that we might somehow date.

"This is what I can offer you. I told you. I don't date, don't do hearts and flowers."

"Sure, I remember. You can't love me, won't love me. I haven't forgotten."

Christian stares at me expectantly, letting me know the next move is mine.

"Let me read through this, and I'll ask questions as I go. Then you, being the expert, can add whatever you think I need to know."

He hands me a glass of champagne and climbs into bed, propped up quietly next to me, sipping his champagne as I read. It's all fairly straightforward, and not until page four do I have questions.

"You want me for three months?"

"That's a standard term. We would renew our contract in three month increments."

"What if I wanted out earlier? You can't legally make me stay, can you?"

"No, of course not. This isn't legally binding. If you want to leave before the end of three months, I can't stop you, though three months won't be enough."

"How long have you been a Dominant?"

"Six years."

"Six years and fifteen women? Have you pretty much had a submissive continually throughout those six years?"

"No. There have been breaks, like now. It's been three months since I had a contract."

"What's the longest contract you've had?"

"I had a contract that lasted a year, and another that was nearly as long. Most were three months. One didn't last two weeks."

"Did you get tired of them?"

Christian looks guiltily toward the door, breaking eye contact.

"Yes. There were a few who didn't hold my interest for long. But contracts typically end because the sub wants more from me. If they want a boyfriend, I terminate the contract. I am always monogamous for the length of the contract."

"You're monogamous? What about the club liaisons?"

"I've only visited clubs when I was training or between contracts."

"When you said you were monogamous, you said it with a hint of pride. You value monogamy?"

"Yes, I place a high value on monogamy."

"You do realize that what you practice is serial monogamy. It can't be compared to the monogamy of couples who have maintained long term committed relationships."

"Do you doubt I would remain faithful to you and to the contract?"

"I'm not sure what to think, but since you switch partners so frequently, I fear you'll get bored with me and find another."

"You'll aggravate the hell out of me with your smart mouth, but I don't believe you'll bore me. I feel confident that I can maintain monogamy with you."

"How does contract renewal work? Do you sit down and have a meeting?"

"Yes. We go back through the contract to see if we need to make adjustments. If they've been a good submissive and we agree to renew, I gift them jewelry as a bonus. Pink diamonds every three months."

Note to self: Never wear pink diamonds.

"Always pink? Why is that?"

Wasn't he looking at pink diamonds when we were at Tiffany's? Maybe he wasn't shopping for his mother. Perhaps he was shopping for something to set aside for his next submissive.

"Women like pink, don't they? And pink reminds me of skin after it's been flogged and spanked."

"Just so you know, I've never liked pink diamonds. They're tacky."

I say this out of meanness. It's an immature, impulsive remark, and as soon as it's out of my mouth, I wish I could take it back.

Christian frowns, pained at my words, and reflexively turns his back on me.

"Christian? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I've really got nothing against pink diamonds. I was just lashing out, because I'm hurt. Please forgive me."

"I forgive you. Please try to stay open to the contract."

This beautiful man doesn't understand. I've already made up my mind about the contract. It's only morbid curiosity prodding me to continue studying it.

"Am I reading this correctly? Would I stay at your apartment every weekend, Friday through Sunday?"

"Yes. You'll have your own room. Submissives never enter my bedroom. I've never slept with a woman, other than you, and this weekend was a special situation."

"If we've already slept in the same room and in the same bed, what would it hurt to continue?"

"It's the way it's always been. You'll have a very nice room with its own bath. You can personalize the room and decorate however you like."

"When will I go out with friends? I visit my dad one weekend each month. This won't work for me."

"We can negotiate that. Please keep reading. I'll address your concerns."

"I'm sure you attend social events on weekends. Why should I remain at your apartment while you're working late or out socializing? Why can't I go home or out with my friends?"

"I need you at my beck and call. I need you waiting for me when I get home."

Yep, it's all about him.

"So you get to socialize, but I don't. I just sit and wait for you? Your submissives went along with that?"

"Yes. That's the way it's always worked."

"Does that seem fair to you?"

"My subs are happy to serve me. Their submission is a gift to me. I care for them and meet their needs, and that is my gift to them."

My virginity was a gift to him, but does he see that? And what needs does he think he's meeting with these submissives? It sounds as if he's only meeting physical needs, theirs and his.

"Which needs do you meet, other than pain and sex?"

"I provide a car, clothes, and other things they may need."

"Your submissives are bought and paid for, just like those women at the sex clubs."

"It's not like that. Anastasia, you are being disrespectful of me and my submissives, when you talk about them that way. A submissive derives pleasure from serving her Dominant, irrespective of gifts."

"I'm being disrespectful? You're the one paying them, and they're the ones accepting. You call them gifts. I call them payments. To-may-to, to-mah-to."

Christian wisely closes his mouth. I think he knows I'll continue to argue with him over the terms of his arrangement.

I turn the page. Oh, shit.

"Use my body in any way you deem fit?"

Hell to the no! I can't wait to hear Christian's lame ass response.

"You will have limits in place and safe words. I would never use your body without your consent. The submissive holds the power in the relationship."

"I thought the one with the money and the torture implements held the power."

"Anastasia, when you are disrespectful, you exhibit your ignorance about the lifestyle."

I roll my eyes and shoot him a disgusted look.

"You won't loan me out? Well, that makes me feel ever so much better!"

"Having personal experience with being loaned out has shown me how important it is to reassure my submissives in writing."

Oh. My. God.

"Mrs. Robinson loaned you out? That's so fucked up."

My nausea has kicked up a notch, as bile rises at the thought of Christian being borrowed and used like a tool.

I reach out for him, but he scoots back, letting me know he doesn't need or want comfort.

I force myself to turn back to the contract, but the page is blurred by tears.

"Excuse me."

I rush to the bathroom and rinse my mouth from the faucet. I squat next to the toilet, thinking I may throw up, but the feeling passes. I blow my nose, wipe my eyes, and wash my hands. After a couple of minutes, I feel sufficiently composed.

"Are you alright?"

"Sure. Where were we?"

I find my place in the contract.

"Why can't I look directly into your eyes? We look at each other now. And why can't I touch you? Last night in bed you said my touch meant the world to you."

"It's all part of being submissive. It's the way I've always done things."

I reach Appendix One and read through more of Christian's warped rules.

"You can't tell me what to eat, how much to sleep and exercise. You want to choose my clothing? No! I want to wear my own clothes, Christian. And why do I need to be waxed? Have my pubes been bothering you? After reading this contract, I don't know how you've been able to stand me these past few days!"

"Your hairy pussy is perfect, baby. You are beautiful, exactly as you are. Strike the waxing requirement, but the sleep, diet, and exercise requirements are for your health and safety."

"Can't you trust me to take care of myself? You've said over and over again, you don't want to hurt me, you'll never hurt me. Well, I won't let you have the opportunity to hurt me. I won't be punished, and you'll never come near me with canes or whips!"

I am beyond hurt. It's as if Christian has no idea who I really am.

 **Christian**

Anastasia shoots me a scorching look.

"No, Christian, no fisting, no genital clamps. No. I don't want this. This isn't for me."

Anastasia glares at me with burning, reproachful eyes. Her curt voice lashes out.

"We should discuss this. Don't dismiss it out of hand. Everything is negotiable."

This deal is going south in a hurry. Let's see if I can turn this sinking ship around.

"Christian, I'm just not right for you."

Glowering at me, she tosses the contract on the floor.

"Please let me explain, show you some websites. Let's talk this through. Open your mind to the possibilities of what we can be together."

Our bodies fit together perfectly. Each tryst has been a marvel. I didn't know it was possible for two people to be sexually in sync the way Anastasia and I are. Perhaps her lack of experience prevents her from seeing what is so clear to me.

"I don't want to look at websites. What is there to talk about? I don't judge you. If you need this BDSM stuff, I accept that as who you are. I don't know enough about all of it to make judgments. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll explore some of it with a boyfriend."

What the fuck? She won't explore it with me, but she'll do it with some mythical boyfriend? I don't get it.

"Christian, it's not the BDSM that I'm most upset about. There are other things that concern me more."

"Like what?" She's so confounding. We're just going around in circles.

"Christian, I'm hurt, because I thought you understood me better than this. I'm hurt, because the last thing I expected was for you to treat me like an employee."

"Employee?" Shit. How did this fall off the rails? What is she talking about?

"Yes, employee! A contract, Christian. The only kind of relationship I'd draw up a contract for is a business arrangement."

"The contract is just us putting our thoughts on paper. I want to continue seeing you. I don't want to lose the connection I have with you. This is what I can offer. If you agree to be mine, I'll be devoted to you. Only you."

"Devoted to me? And what would this devotion look like?"

"Your health and safety will be my priority. You'll have a personal trainer, a brand new Audi A3, a new wardrobe. You can get spa treatments whenever you like. If you want your own place, I'll get you an apartment. I'm offering monogamy. Exclusivity. I promise to devote my resources to making your life as comfortable as possible. If you don't want to work, I'll pay you to stay home. That way we could have 24/7 TPE."

Nothing would make me happier than having Anastasia waiting for me every time I walk through my front door.

"24/7 TPE? What's that?"

"Total Power Exchange, complete submission, round-the-clock."

"Oh, the offer just gets better and better. What the hell! That's your idea of devotion? Why don't you just leave a stack of cash on the nightstand? And while you're at it, plunge a dagger through my heart!"

"Stop equating submission and prostitution! You aren't even trying to understand."

I'd like to spank Anastasia for her insolence, but right now she is full-on crying. She snuffles and sniffles, choking back little sobs. She gives me a bitter look and runs to the bathroom for tissues.

I follow her into the bathroom, and as I reach for her, she moves away, out of the confines of the small space and back to the bed. Does she not want to be near me?

"Anastasia? Anastasia, please. I want to continue seeing you. We can negotiate. Since you already know my family, perhaps you could accompany me to dinners at my parents' home. As a couple. Would that work?"

I'm giving this my best. What does she expect? From the beginning, I've been completely up front, telling her I don't date. She knows I can't give her romance.

"I'd like to see you again, too, Christian. But if this is the only kind of relationship you want, I'll have to take a pass. Your life is so complicated, and I fear this contract is just the tip of the iceberg. Are there other secrets?"

"No! I've told you everything, except my life before I was adopted. And I really don't want to talk about that. Can't we talk about forging some kind of arrangement? Perhaps you can accompany me to business dinners from time to time. I'll introduce you as my girlfriend."

"Please. Stop talking. Your words are hurting me and you don't even realize it."

She won't look at me. She's shutting me down. Why can't we discuss this? If I can just get her to open up, I know I can turn this deal around. I need to remind her of our mutual attraction.

"Come, Anastasia. Let me hold you." I pull her to me, and drag us up to the headboard so we can share a pillow. Her head is on my shoulder and I stroke her lovely chestnut hair.

After only a minute or so, she shifts, pulls away, and sits up. I don't like this, her breaking away from me.

"No, you're not playing fair. I know what you're doing. You're using our physical connection as a weapon."

"Let's talk things out. Let me show you some things on the internet. You say you have an open mind, so just look."

"Absolutely not! I've told you how I feel."

"Please don't leave me, Anastasia. I just found you."

"You're a Dominant, but I'm not a submissive. I make it a practice not to judge others, and if BDSM is what gets you off, who am I to question that? I enjoyed the role-play and spanking. When I have a boyfriend, I'll be able to tell him what I like, so thank you for that. But I have no interest in any type of contractual relationship. Please don't bring it up again."

Again, with the goddamned future boyfriend! I swear she enjoys tormenting me.

A heavy, sinking sensation settles in my gut.

I'll drop the idea of a contract and work out something else.

"Okay. No contract, Anastasia. But I'd still like to share some of the lifestyle with you."

"No. I don't think that would be a good idea."

"You said you'd try some of it with a boyfriend. Why not try with me?"

"You aren't a boyfriend, Christian."

"Well, I'm a boy. And we are friends, aren't we?"

I waggle my brows in an attempt to be playful and flirtatious. She's having none of it.

"Let's drop this. You've told me you'll never be a boyfriend. Stop trying to be something you aren't. We're supposed to be honest with one another."

"It's how I am. I told you. I knew you wouldn't like me, once you found out what I am."

"Christian…" She says my name in a soft, admonishing tone.

"What!?" I snap at her.

"I do like you. Very much. It's just that I can't be what you want. If I were to become your submissive, it wouldn't be authentic. It wouldn't be real. I'd always be wanting more, and you'd always be disappointed. That's not fair to either of us."

"You say you're open minded, but I feel judged."

"I wouldn't dare judge you for your sexual preferences, though I wonder if these truly are preferences. I wonder if perhaps Mrs. Robinson conditioned you to respond to BDSM, and since it's all you've really known, you only think you're a Dominant."

"Conditioned? Like one of Pavlov's dogs?"

That's insulting. She thinks I don't know my own preferences. Does she believe Elena has somehow programmed me to like BDSM? The idea is ridiculous.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"You think I don't know my own mind?"

"Maybe not. You seem to have a blind spot for your abuser. Mrs. Robinson."

"She's my friend. My only friend."

"If you said that to hurt me, mission accomplished."

"That wasn't my intention."

That's a lie. I did mean to hurt her. Anastasia has shown herself to be my friend, and I deliberately hurt her. Guilt washes over me

"Wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry. You don't deserve my ire. You just can't possibly understand what she did for me. She helped me when I was a teenager, and she continues to help me."

Anastasia reaches for my hand, and I let her take it. She takes my hand in both of hers, turning it, rubbing it softly.

"You're right. I don't understand. I must say goodbye, Christian. The reason goes beyond the BDSM, the contract, the haphephobia, and the dozens of women you've fucked. When you said you were monogamous with your submissives, you were lying."

"I've never lied to you, and I've never lied to them!"

"Not consciously. You may not be aware of it, but you and Mrs. Robinson are still in the midst of an affair. It may not be physical, but it is an emotional affair. You can call yourselves business partners, but I'd bet my next paycheck, there's more to it. You may not be having sex, but the mere fact you still hang out with your abuser tells me you two are enmeshed in some sort of sick codependency."

I yank my hand away from Anastasia. She has overstepped her bounds again!

"How dare you play armchair psychiatrist! You don't know shit about what she and I have shared. She's not my abuser. She's my savior. We've fucked in ways you can't even begin to imagine. Yes, before you and I met, Anastasia, I had a life."

As soon as the words leave me, I regret them.

"There you go again, trying to hurt me. Only this time it didn't work. I may have only taken a couple of psych courses, but I'll stand by what I said. I would never want to get in the way of what the two of you have. Don't forget the promise you made to never speak to her about me. I don't want my name to ever pass her lips."

Our verbal eviscerations must end. I decide to wave the white flag.

"I always honor my promises. As for my relationships with other women, we'll agree to disagree. I'm sorry things didn't work out, Anastasia. I'll miss you."

 **Anastasia**

He regards Mrs. Robinson as his savior. Sweet mother of God, I'm in way over my head. Christian Grey is too far gone, too much for me to handle.

"I'm sorry, too. I'm going to my room. Please shred that contract. I don't want anyone to see my name on it."

"Of course. Ana?"

"Yes."

"May I sleep with you? Please. Without you, I'll have nightmares. I won't touch you."

There's the broken little boy. I can't turn him away.

"Okay. I'll sleep here."

For the fourth night in a row, he pulls my body to his, my back to his front. Christian wraps me in his warmth. It's wrong for me to allow this, but I'm selfish. I want to feel him against me, listen to his breathing, and bask in his musky male fragrance.

I close my eyes, willing myself not to cry. The tears come, silent and thick, burning the back of my throat.

Christian's life is just way too fucked up, and I can't handle it.

His hand strokes my cheek.

"You're crying."

"I'll be okay."

The last thing I remember before falling asleep is the solid comfort of Christian's hands caressing my shoulders.

XXXXXXX

I hear hushed voices. Elliot? It doesn't feel as though I've been asleep for long, and my eyes burn as I try to open them.

"No, don't wake her. Go get Mother."

Christian attempts to get rid of Elliot.

"But she's asking for Ana. She doesn't want anyone else."

Something must be wrong with Kate.

"I'm awake now. What's going on? Kate?"

"Yes, she's sick. Chills, headache. I think it's a fever. She's calling for you."

I'm wearing next to nothing in this babydoll set, but thankfully Elliot doesn't seem to notice. I throw on the satin robe and follow him to his room. Christian is right behind me.

"Bug?"

Kate opens her mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes out. Heat radiates from her body, and a hand to her forehead tells me she surely has a fever.

"Elliot says you have chills and a headache."

"Yes," Kate rasps.

"Anything else going on?"

"Hurts…all over."

"I'm sure you have a fever. Sounds like flu." I turn to Christian. "What time is it?"

"Just after five."

"Would you get Grace, please? Unless you think it's too early to wake her."

"I'll get her."

"Thanks."

"Elliot, could you go get a glass of ice water? Kate needs to stay hydrated."

"Be right back."

I get a washcloth, wet it with cold water, and wring it out. When I put it on Kate's forehead, she murmurs appreciatively.

"Feels...nice."

"Grace will be here in a minute. Anything else I should know? Are you congested?"

"No, but I've got a dry cough…just hurts everywhere. My eyeballs hurt."

"Kate?" It's Grace. "What's going on?"

I decide to answer for Kate.

"Chills, body aches, and a headache. She's been coughing, but says there's no congestion. Feels like she has a fever."

"Let's take her temp." Grace uses a digital ear thermometer.

"Could it be the flu?" I inquire. "It's not flu season, is it?"

"Flu can hit any time of the year. And this does look like flu. Oh, Kate, you definitely have a fever. It says 102.2."

Elliot brings the water, and he has very thoughtfully put a straw into the glass, making it easier for Kate. Elliot and I move pillows around and prop Kate up so she can drink.

Grace takes Kate's blood pressure and listens to her heart.

"Her heart rate is a bit high, but that's part and parcel of the flu. Kate, do you have any allergies?"

Kate shakes her head, closes her eyes, and relaxes into the pillow. She's asleep.

"Does Kate have any allergies?"

"No."

"Does Kate have a history of asthma or any kind of respiratory disease?"

"No, she's always been very healthy."

"Is she on any medication?"

"Birth control pill, but I don't know the name of it."

"I wouldn't ordinarily order an antiviral for a healthy young person, but with finals and graduation duties coming up, I know Kate will be anxious to get back on her feet. I'll order Tamiflu. Make sure she continues to take her birth control pill on schedule. Two aspirin every four hours for the fever, aches, and pains. Tamiflu every twelve hours until all ten tablets are gone. Continue to push fluids and plenty of rest. She should stay home and sleep all day until she feels well."

"Thank you. I feel better knowing you've looked her over."

"You're welcome, darling. Elliot and Christian, go back to bed. I'd like to speak to Ana for a minute. Can you come down to the kitchen?"

"Sure."

Elliot slides in next to Kate. Christian follows Grace into the hall, and seems reluctant to leave me alone with her.

"Christian, I'll see you later." I attempt to reassure him, but he looks mournfully sad.

"Are you feeling unwell, darling?"

"I'm fine," Christian dejectedly answers his mother.

Grace looks between the two of us. I turn away from both of them and walk quickly to the kitchen. Grace must have stayed behind to converse with Christian, because it feels as if a full minute passes before she joins me.

"Is this about Kate? Do you think I should call her parents right away? I was going to wait until we got home."

"No, this isn't about Kate, but I thought I would write out work and school excuses for both of you, what with Kate being sick and you serving as caretaker."

"Thank you. That would be helpful. Anything else?"

"When you mentioned Kate was on the pill, it made me think perhaps you might need a prescription. I overheard Elliot yesterday going on about the condom situation. I thought you might need birth control pills. Do you have a gynecologist?"

"No, I've never needed one."

"I treat adolescent girls and am well acquainted with birth control options. If you'd like a prescription, I'd be happy to provide one."

"Sure, that would be helpful."

"Let me check you out and ask a few questions."

Grace takes my blood pressure, which is a bit low, but apparently nothing to be concerned about. She takes a brief medical history and explains how the pill works, side effects, and what to do if I miss a dose. I'm to start taking it on the first day of my next menstrual period.

"Thank you, Grace. Truly. I can't thank you enough for being such an accommodating hostess, for being a friend. I know Kate feels the same way."

"It's my pleasure. Don't be a stranger, Ana. I hope you know you can come to either Cary or me if you ever need help."

"Yes, thank you."

"You look miserable. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really."

"Christian?"

"Yes. I don't need to tell you. We're both intractable. Stubborn as mules."

"Are you in love with him?"

"No, but if I hang around any longer, I will be."

"That's a bad thing?"

"I think so."

"Won't you take a chance on my son?"

"He's too much for me. His life is way too complicated."

"Too much for you? No, you two are very well matched. It's something I never thought I'd live to see."

"I'm cutting my losses, and I hope you won't hold it against me."

"Never."

"I'm going to try catching some sleep."

"Okay, darling."

Grace hugs me tightly.

I tiptoe back into Christian's room. He's wide awake, looking at his phone.

"I was just texting Reynolds. Walgreen's has a 24-hour pharmacy, so he's going into town for the Tamiflu. Thank you for coming back to me."

"Scoot over. I'd like to get more sleep."

"What did Mother want?"

"She offered up a prescription for birth control pills, and I accepted."

"You can't be serious! You're just going to walk off into the sunset and start fucking other men?"

"Yes. I intend to give my vagina a well-deserved rest, and starting this Saturday, I'm going to fuck every fifth guy I meet. I'm sure I can get my numbers up to your level in no time."

"It's unlike you to be so vulgar. I suppose you think that's funny."

"No. What's funny is you, thinking you have a say in my life."

"I'm withdrawing the contract, Ana. Please forget I ever showed it to you. I'll take you any way I can get you. You set the terms. Just please don't leave me."

"You're used to getting your own way, and right now I'm a challenge. If we were together, you'd tire of me quickly."

"That's not true."

"I need rest. I don't want to argue. We're just going around in circles. Let's sleep."

"If you want a boyfriend, I'll be one."

"We've been through this. You say you'll be a boyfriend, and then you'll pull a bait and switch, and start acting like a Dom."

"But you're looking for a boyfriend?"

"Yes, eventually."

"Someone who will show you proper devotion?"

"Yes."

"You rejected my devotion. What's your definition?"

He won't be interested in meeting my standards, but I'll entertain him by listing them. It takes me a moment to collect my thoughts.

"Devotion is trust, honesty, and absolute transparency. It's kindness, appreciation, affection, and romance. Devotion is playfulness and intimate conversation. Devotion is putting your partner above everything and everybody else."

"You're expecting a lot."

"I'm worth a lot. I have self-esteem issues and insecurities, but I'm healthy enough to know that I deserve love and respect."

"Please, Anastasia, can we work this out? God damn it! You are mine!"

In an attempt to soothe him, I gently rub his biceps.

"Sleep, Christian. Now. Please try to sleep, or I'll go to the other room."

 **Christian**

Bits of light filter through the slats of the wooden blinds. I'm relieved to see Anastasia is still beside me. She is always beautiful, but particularly so when she sleeps.

I reach for my phone. I take several photographs of Anastasia. I won't have her, but I'll be able to look at her images and know that this weekend was real.

It's nearly eight. I text Elliot.

 **C: How's Katherine?**

 **E: Sleeping soundly. I gave her aspirin and Tamiflu.**

 **C: Do you think K will sleep long enough for me to be alone with A?**

 **E: I'm taking care of my girl. You take care of yours. ; )**

I cannot resist her. I nuzzle her neck, leaving behind soft kisses. I move to her chest, and she wakes in confusion.

"Christian. What are you doing?"

"Showing my devotion. Do you like it?"

"It feels great. Your whiskers tickle."

She smiles, and it's almost as if the contract debacle never occurred.

"Will you have me? Could you still want me?"

"I'll never stop wanting you, Christian. We can have sex, but I'll just be using you. I won't change my mind about some kind of arrangement between us."

"I'm fine with being used. Use me, Anastasia. I want to show you my devotion."

"I should go check on Kate."

Anastasia sits up and I playfully pull her back down.

"I just texted El and he says she's sleeping soundly."

"I should still check on her—"

"Please!"

The interjection comes out sounding frantic and needy. I start again, calmer.

"Please let me have you one last time. Please, Anastasia. If you must leave me, please don't hate me. Please let me show you that I care for you."

I shamelessly beg. As an adolescent, I begged Elena. But between then and now, I've never begged a woman for anything. Women are the ones begging me.

Anastasia has no idea of the power she holds over me.

She climbs atop me, wraps both arms around my neck, and kisses me hard. Her gaze is sweet and affectionate.

"I could never hate you. Would you allow me to examine you, every inch of you? I won't touch your back or chest. It's just that you are so beautiful. I want to look at you and I want to remember."

Elena saw all of me, up close and personal, when I was her submissive.

My submissives see parts of my body, but never all of me completely naked. They are blindfolded or restrained in such a way that their view of me is always limited.

Anastasia has already seen all of me. I'm not sure what she wants to do, but she's very respectful of my boundaries.

"Sure. Just be careful."

"If I do something weird, please tell me, and I'll stop."

"It's you and me, baby. Nothing we do could be weird. It's us."

She nods gently and begins playing with my hair, touching my scalp, then my brows, closing her eyes and running her fingers over my facial bones. Her eyes travel the front of my body, stopping to study the scars on my chest.

"How did you get these funny little marks?"

"It's part of my past. The early part. I don't talk about it."

"Okay." She stills. "Will you let me do something?"

"Depends." Shit. It probably has something to do with the scars.

"That tuft of hair on your sternum is very inviting. Don't worry, I'm not going to touch it with my fingers, but I wonder if I might use my tongue. I've been dying to put my mouth on it, kiss it, and run my tongue through it."

"That's probably not a good idea."

"Sure. I understand."

Her smile is tight, polite. She doesn't want me to feel bad about myself. She runs her hands up and down my bare arms.

"May I look at your armpits?"

Now that's something Elena never did.

"Sure, just look." I'll be damned if Anastasia doesn't move her face down to my pits. She inhales deeply taking a whiff of each armpit.

"You smell divine. I wish I could bottle it. May I lick your armpits? Please."

I consider her request, and decide the danger threshold is low. After all, this is Anastasia.

"Yes, my little freak. But let me hold your hands. That way, if I have a reaction, I'll be able to push you away. Don't take it personally, if I can't handle it."

Slowly, carefully, Anastasia uses her nose to nudge my right arm up away from my body. She presses her lips to my armpit, kissing gently. It tickles ever so slightly, and there's something intimate and erotic about it. She moves to the other armpit and plants another sweet kiss.

"I'm going to lick you now. Are you ready?"

"Yes." I close my eyes and tighten my grip on her hands.

The wet warmth of her tongue invades the auburn thicket, creating a delicate tickling sensation. A shock of pleasure shoots through me, and I erupt in goose bumps. I reflexively close my armpit and pull away from her.

We both laugh heartily.

Anastasia's done it again, given me another precious memory. She makes me normal, a regular guy, an average Joe. Just a boy being playfully tickled by his girl.

I recall Dad playing tickle games with Elliot and Mia. For obvious reasons, I couldn't participate, and I always felt like the outsider looking in.

With Anastasia, I am an outsider no more.

"Still interested in kissing that spot in the middle of my chest?"

"Are you offering?" Her voice has an eager edge.

"Yes." I'm hyperventilating.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. Do it. Before I lose my nerve."

I hold fast to her hands. As she leans over me, a lush brown curtain falls around her face, brushing across my chest. Shit, that feels good.

Her target is on my sternum at the nipple line. Anastasia slowly lowers her lips. Her eyes meet mine, checking to see if it's still okay. I nod in agreement.

Her pink lips softly caress the small depression in the center of my chest. Her tongue swirls and twirls through the coarse, springy hair. There is no pain, only pleasure and arousal.

"Baby, I need you."

"Take what you need."

I roll her over, covering her body with mine. I kiss the pulsing hollow at the base of her neck, and slowly work my way up to her eager lips, leaving tiny kisses in my wake.

My greedy mouth meets its match. Our tongues battle, as we gnash teeth, bite and suck each other's lips.

There's an urgency to this coupling, making it different from anything we've done before. Nails dig into my biceps and buttocks, clawing at my flesh. Hands yank my hair so hard I fear I will lose chunks of my scalp. In return, I pound away in a punishing rhythm. In every thrust there is anguish, rage, fear, and regret. Our bodies grind, push, and dig, as if each of us is trying to climb inside the other.

She comes quickly, in a great tremor. As she calls my name, I feel her velvety heat close in around me. I am overcome, and fall apart in her arms.

She has no idea of the powerful hold she has on me. Quite simply, Anastasia has changed my life.

There are no words. We hold each other for a time, and stare into each other's eyes.

Anastasia has the courage to do what needs to be done. She releases me and sits up.

"It's time to pack. It's time to go home."

And just like that, she's gone.

The condom feels loose. I remove it, and find a rip at the bottom. To my great relief, it appears that my ejaculate remained inside the condom.

 **Anastasia**

When I arrive at Elliot's room to help Kate prepare for our flight, I find Mia, Elliot, and Kate curled up together on the bed, chatting quietly. Kate is already dressed and ready to go. Elliot has bathed Kate, washed her hair, and helped her dress. Mia styled Kate's hair into a messy bun.

"Bug, you look like you've got everything you need. How's the fever?"

"Better." Kate still sounds raspy and weak.

"Down to 101, so that's good." Mia speaks for Kate. "She's drinking lots of water and hot lemonade, but says she still feels awful."

"I'm running behind schedule, so I'll go throw myself together. Back in a few."

Mrs. Garza is at my door with some laundry.

"These things are yours or Miss Kate's. Not being certain, and not wanting to bother her, with the flu and all, I thought I'd bring them to you."

"Thank you so much. Do you mind coming into the room for a moment?"

"Of course not."

I lead Mrs. Garza to the closet, where I've stowed the packed luggage.

"I'm deliberately leaving these things behind. I want you to know, so you won't try to return them to me. Feel free to keep them for yourself or donate them to charity. Some of the clothes still have price tags on them."

"Why on earth would you leave your clothes and luggage behind?"

I give Mrs. Garza the basic 411 on how Kate and I received a new wardrobe from Christian, and how Christian purchased the luggage as a graduation gift.

"I don't feel right keeping the clothes. It makes me feel cheap, like he paid me to hang out with him."

Mrs. Garza seemingly knows everything about everyone. She probably knows I was doing more than hanging out.

"Do you like the clothes and luggage?"

"Yes."

"When you look at them or wear them, do you have bad feelings?"

"No."

"So is this a point of pride with you, not accepting anything from Mr. Christian?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"If I had a daughter, I would hope she would be just like you. You're a good girl. And if you were my daughter, I'd tell you to stop being so proud. You should be practical."

"Practical?"

"Yes. A woman must learn to choose practicality over principle. Take it from me. I learned my lesson from my first marriage."

"What happened?"

"My first husband was a bit older than me, and had a child from a previous marriage. He didn't want any more children, and he talked me out of having any children of my own. I thought things were fine between us, but when I was 35, and he was 51, he had an affair, and got the woman pregnant. I was devastated."

"The cheating bastard!"

"Yes, and stupid me walked away from the marriage with nothing, all because I refused to take anything from our life together. Nothing more than idiotic pride on my part. I had been penny-pinching for years, and after the divorce I learned that our little plumbing business was worth three million dollars. I never got to have my own child, and I had to start over with nothing. Life has been quite difficult."

"That's a hard-learned lesson. I'm so sorry you had to go through all that."

"So, Miss Ana, if your conscience is clear, take the clothes and luggage. You and Miss Kate should accept them graciously as gifts, for I'm sure that is what Mr. Christian must have intended."

"I'll carefully consider what you've told me. If you find the luggage in the closet, you'll know what to do with it, won't you?"

"Yes." She smiles sweetly. "It was nice meeting you. I wish you the best. You and Miss Kate are kind, genuine people. I'll be asking about both of you each time I see the Greys."

In a rush of affection, I pull Mrs. Garza in for a hug.

"Thank you. For the good wishes and the lesson."

After the door closes, I consider Mrs. Garza's life story.

Her situation and mine are not really analogous, but I understand her point.

I may get a temporary high from the lofty moral superiority I will feel by rejecting Christian's gifts. The fact is, I like the clothes and luggage. I need them, and can put them to good use.

It is pragmatism that drives me to reject Christian, the man. Such a complicated man would lead to a complicated relationship, and ultimately, a broken heart.

I had planned to wear the plum dress on the flight back to Seattle, leaving behind physical evidence of my time with Christian. Instead I dig through the luggage for the comfort of Nikes, skinny jeans, and a button-down. I pack away the dress, and wheel the suitcases out into the empty hall, so they can be loaded into the truck.

 **Christian**

"Now that we have everyone together, it's time to present the prize for Best Team, Mother's Day Weekend, 2011."

Mia has everyone's attention. She waves a thick manila envelope above her head.

Natalia moves through the cabin, serving soda, juice, and water from her small cart.

"The winning team impressed us with their dancing, sing-alongs, breakfasts, and Pictionary skills. And let's not forget the condom challenge. Christian and Ana, please come forward."

Ana and I are greeted with cheers, whistles, and applause.

We haven't spoken since she left our bed this morning. It's not that things between us are awkward or strained. We're avoiding each other in an attempt to protect ourselves from more hurt.

Ana and I step forward, each of us coming to stand on opposite sides of Mia.

"The prize is a five night stay for two in the Presidential Suite at the very romantic Four Seasons Resort in Maui. In the envelope are vouchers for dining, and activities like snorkeling, trail rides, parasailing, and whale watching. When you're ready to go, call the number inside, and they'll set you up."

Mia tries to hand the envelope to me.

"No, give the envelope to Anastasia. She's in charge of travel."

Anastasia takes the envelope and hugs Mia. She looks over at me and mouths "thank you."

I don't want anyone to know that she and I are parting ways, though they'll all figure it out soon enough. There will be questions, and I don't want to deal with any of that right now.

I sit alone. I watch Anastasia throughout the flight, as she shares the sofa with Kate and Elliot. She speaks easily with my family and security. She fits seamlessly into my life.

So much is clear to me now.

Flynn warned me against offering her the contract, but my hubris led me to believe she'd accept whatever I offered her. Not wanting to change myself, I attempted to force change upon Anastasia.

Taylor has arranged delivery of everyone's car to the parking area next to my private hangar. I observe as Sawyer helps Anastasia load luggage into the trunk of Katherine's black Mercedes. Elliot helps Katherine into the passenger side, and over the hood of the car, Anastasia speaks to Elliot.

It's my last chance.

"Anastasia!"

I run to her and gently pull her away from the car.

"Couldn't you try? I can be your boyfriend."

"We've been through this."

"Might I persuade you?"

"No. For the rest of my life, I want to remember the way we've been this weekend, your scent, your taste, your breathing when you move inside me. I don't want our last words to be ugly and sad. If I were your submissive, or if you forced yourself to be a boyfriend, we'd end up unhappy, saying cruel things to one another."

Anastasia's head nuzzles my chest, and it feels heavenly.

She's right, of course. She'd be a terrible submissive. I'd certainly be a lousy boyfriend.

I wrap my arms around her small frame. I claim her lips.

"Mine."

"Yours. Always."

"Goodbye, Anastasia."

My heart is vanquished.

My girl is gone, off to conquer more hearts.


	12. Owner of a Lonely Heart

**This chapter is for ko1215, who encouraged me to type faster!**

 **The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 12**

 **Owner of a Lonely Heart**

 **Tuesday, May 10, 2011**

 **Christian**

"Start from the beginning and tell me about Anastasia. My first appointment cancelled, so I'd like you to stay until nine, if you can."

I text Ros and Andrea to make sure I don't have anything going on.

"I'll stay until nine."

"Do I have your permission to videotape this? I don't want to be writing the entire time. I want my focus on you."

I agree to the taping. We've done this a couple of times before. John must consider this session important.

We'll discuss Anastasia, and she's exceedingly important.

"Are you still infatuated with Anastasia?"

"Yes. I told her of my crush, and she confessed to having one of her own."

"I'm happy for you. Why so glum?"

"I offered Anastasia a contract, which she firmly rejected."

"I cautioned you about doing such a thing. What led you to proceed with a contract?"

"Dom is my default mode. I fully expected Anastasia to yield to my wishes and change herself for me. I understand now that I was wrong. I'm the one who needs to make changes."

"What changes are you considering?"

"Boyfriend needs to become my new default, if I'm ever to be what Anastasia wants and needs."

"Change is something you should do for yourself, not just for Anastasia. I can assure you, no woman wants a man who's just going through the motions. Any changes must come from a place of truth."

"Anastasia basically said the same thing."

"Are you committed to change? The changes you want to make will be difficult, even painful."

"Yes, I'm committed to the process. Anastasia is a perfect fit for me, and I don't just mean sexually. She's intelligent, kind, and loving. When I sleep with her, I don't have night terrors. At night I have dreams, regular dreams. Dreams of Anastasia and me on the Grace, the two of us soaring in a glider. She teaches me how to be with my family. You should see her with my family, John. She fits in so well. I think they've fallen in love with her."

"Have you fallen in love with her?"

"I don't know what that is. Is being in love a special form of synergy? The couple becoming exponentially more powerful than the two lovers could ever be on their own. That's how I see myself with Anastasia. I'm much more, when I'm with her. I feel more powerful as a man and more complete as a person."

"Maybe you do know what it means to fall in love."

"You think I love Anastasia?"

"Sounds that way to me."

"Shit. Really?"

"Yes. Have you thought about withdrawing the contract and asking if she'd consider dating you?"

"I did that, but it was too little, too late. She said there were bigger issues than the contract."

"Such as?"

"Because I've had so many partners, she doesn't believe I can maintain monogamy. She believes I'll tire of her. Honestly, John, of all her concerns, I think this is the most frustrating for me. I know I could remain faithful to her. I could be monogamous until the end of time for her, and with little to no effort."

"What else did she say?"

"I believe the haphephobia bothers her, but she works around it. She kissed and licked the middle of my chest and I found it strangely arousing."

"You let her kiss and lick your chest? That's an enormous development."

"I know. It was the prelude to our last sexual encounter, which turned out to be something very different from the other times."

"How was it different?"

It's confession time.

"The other times were about discovery, Anastasia being new to sex and me being new to vanilla. We were becoming acquainted with each others' bodies. This last time was an emotional goodbye. It was rough, primal. After she left our bed, I discovered the bottom of the condom had broken. I was relieved to find the ejaculate was inside the top of the condom, but in a perverse way, I was also disappointed. I don't ever want children, but if Anastasia were to become pregnant, it would be a way for me to hold on to her. I know that's fucked up, so don't look at me disapprovingly."

"Do I appear disapproving?"

"No, you're still wearing that professional mask of yours. You aren't giving anything away."

John raises a brow and one corner of his mouth. It makes me laugh.

"I'm not disapproving. I'm actually impressed with your self-awareness. How did Anastasia feel about the broken condom? Did she become upset?"

"We never discussed it. She doesn't know the condom broke."

"What! Why would you not tell her? You're playing roulette with her body. She has a right to know, so she can purchase Plan B, if she feels the need. Perhaps you really do want her pregnant."

"God, no! As much as I want her, I don't want her pregnant. I don't ever want to be a father. I assessed the situation and felt there was no need to alarm her. I guess it's a Dom thing. Why tell a woman something, if it's not really a problem, and it's only going to upset her?"

"I'm speaking to you as your friend right now, not your psychiatrist. And I hope I am looking at you disapprovingly, because what you just said sounds chauvinistic and arrogant. We have some work to do."

Yes, I'm one fucked up, selfish, son of a bitch.

"I guess it's not too late to let her know. She still has time to use the Plan B. Should I call her?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll call her tonight and tell her."

"There you go. Any other conflicts I should know about?"

When I tell him about Dad accusing Anastasia of trying to take advantage of me, I see him jotting notes.

"Christian, how would you feel about a joint session with your father? I think it may be beneficial for you to explain more fully how his interference made you feel. I'd like to mediate a discussion between the two of you."

"I don't see how that would help."

"Would it hurt?"

"Probably not."

We'll end up sniping unproductively at each other. A meeting won't help, but it probably won't make things worse. I'll humor John and call my dad to set up a meeting.

"Are you willing to invest some time and energy in the hope that perhaps your relationship might be improved?"

"I guess so."

Flynn wants to know more about my sexual encounters with Anastasia. I've recounted my sex life to him many times. This feels different, and I feel a need to protect what I've enjoyed with Anastasia. Flynn senses I'm holding back and asks about it.

"Anastasia asked me not to talk to Elena about her, saying it would taint our intimacy. So I'm reluctant to talk about some of what Anastasia and I did, even with you. It was quite different from anything I've experienced before."

"That's huge, Christian. And am I to understand that you told Anastasia about Elena?"

"Anastasia calls her Mrs. Robinson. She doesn't know Elena's name. Elena is actually a huge bone of contention between Anastasia and me."

"How so?"

"Anastasia refers to Elena as my abuser. She believes Elena and I are engaged in, and I'm quoting her, John, some sort of sick codependency. She's had two psych courses and thinks she's an expert. She also suggested BDSM might not be a natural preference for me, that Elena somehow conditioned me to prefer the lifestyle."

"Did you give Anastasia details about your early encounters with Elena?"

"No, that never seemed appropriate."

"I see. Would you like to explore some of Anastasia's theories? Just so you can put them to rest in your own mind."

"That seems like a colossal waste of time."

"You have great difficulty discussing Elena. Every time we get close to delving into your relationship with her, you veer away."

"I admit to not wanting to dig around in all that crap. One of the things I like about SFBT is that we don't dwell on the past, and if you force me to wade through all that shit, I'll quit therapy."

I sound like a spoiled brat.

"Really? You'll stop therapy?" John's voice is laced with skepticism. He knows I'm not going anywhere. His office is the only place where I can dump my shit.

"No. When I said I'm committed to the process, I meant it. But what's wrong with my friendship with Elena? We meet up once in a while and share a meal. Not a big deal."

"And what do you discuss during the meal?"

"The salons. My subs. Elena makes suggestions for playroom scenes."

"What if Anastasia had been seduced when she was fifteen, and she was still meeting up with her former sex partner, discussing her current sex life? Would you be cool with that? Would that not be a big deal?"

"I see your point."

"For the sake of argument, I'll take Anastasia's side. When Anastasia said you and Elena were enmeshed in some sort of codependency, don't you think discussing your sex life so intimately with Elena is codependent?"

"No. It seems natural, not at all sick or strange."

"Do you know what codependency is?"

"A relationship In which one person enables another person's addiction?"

"Not exactly, though you have described an example **.** Codependent relationships are a type of dysfunctional helping relationship where one person supports or enables another person's addiction, immaturity, or irresponsibility. The most common characteristic is an excessive reliance on another person for approval and identity."

"And how does that apply to Elena and me? I'm not like my birth mother."

I've got nothing in common with my crack whore mother, and I don't understand why John is trying to take me down this path.

"No, you aren't an addict. But you have intimacy issues, difficulty expressing and managing your feelings, and you have been rigid, resistant to making changes in your life. Elena seems to enable your fear of intimacy. She keeps you in an unsatisfying cycle of submissives. Am I saying things that aren't true?"

I consider what Flynn says, and we have discussed my issues many times. However, we've never discussed Elena's current role in my life.

"Christian? Are you still with me?"

"Yes. I'm trying to stay open to what you're saying, but I don't see how it's applicable to my friendship with Elena."

"Does Elena look to you for approval?"

I guffaw loudly at the suggestion that Elena would seek my approval.

"Of course not."

"Do you seek her approval? Think carefully before you answer."

Shit. I do seek her approval every time I discuss my submissives and our activities.

"Yes, in matters of the lifestyle, I do seek her approval. I do rely on her suggestions and I value her opinions."

"Dom/sub relationships can be intimate and fulfilling, but the relationships you've had with women in the past don't fit into that category. Does staying in the lifestyle, as you currently practice it, as taught to you by Elena, allow room for a healthy relationship with Anastasia?"

"No, and I understand why Anastasia wouldn't consider the contract."

"What do you want from Anastasia? Do you want a relationship?"

"Yes."

"Describe a relationship with her. What will it look like?"

"I'm not sure."

"Not sure of what?"

"I've never been in a traditional relationship, so I'm not sure what it would look like. Maybe a bit like my parents' marriage. We'd attend social functions together and spend time with each other. We'd be supportive of one another's goals."

"Do you want marriage?"

"No, I can't see myself in a marriage."

"Do you think Anastasia would be content with what you want?"

"I would hope so."

"You don't think she'd like to create a home with marriage and children? I don't know her. Perhaps she isn't at all the traditional type."

I immediately picture Anastasia in my kitchen.

"She's the domestic type. I think she'll eventually want marriage and children."

Shit. Is Flynn trying to show me that it won't work between Anastasia and me?

"If you could have it, what would you want from her? Put it in a statement. Tell me what you want."

"I want to see her every day. I want to wake up next to her. I want to bask in her goodness. I want to lay the world at her feet. I want to deserve her love and admiration. I want to be at the center of her universe."

I sound greedy. Truth is I want even more than what I've just admitted to Flynn.

"Those sound like goals. Are those goals you wish to pursue?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. If you want to reach those goals, you have to put the work in, and frankly Elena Lincoln should be at the top of your chore list."

"Anastasia made some smart ass remark about not wanting to get between Elena and me."

"Elena is part of your past, and she is also a large part of your present. You'll never move forward with Anastasia if you don't examine your relationship with Elena. Let's take a quick break. I'll get us some fresh coffee, and then we'll explore your youth, from ages 4 up through 15, just before you met Elena."

As I mentally prepare for what's to come with John, I wonder what Anastasia is doing right now.

Is she in class? I bet there are boys leering at her, plotting ways to get into her panties, trying to imagine what is only mine.

Perhaps she's at the hardware store. Does she wear jeans to work? Does her job require her to bend over and rearrange the stock? Most of the customers are probably male, and I'm sure they enjoy watching Anastasia perform her duties.

I miss her terribly. I can't wait for her graduation day. Seventeen more days.

"I want you relaxed while we talk about your boyhood, Christian. Why don't you put your feet up, recline on the sofa?"

I move to the well-worn green leather couch, and make myself comfortable.

"Before we talk about Elena, let's explore your childhood. Tell me about your early memories of being attracted to the opposite sex?"

"You mean someone I saw on TV, or someone in real life?"

"Both. Just let the memories come. Don't analyze. Just recount whatever pops in your head."

"I always thought the _Ferris Bueller_ girl was very attractive. When I was small, like 6 or 7, I thought my cousin was pretty. She was a couple of years older. Back then she was easy to be around."

"What did she look like?"

"Brown hair, usually braided, green eyes, small for her age."

"Is she still attractive to you?"

"God, no, she's bossy and loud. She's frumpy and has the most irritating kids. She stopped being attractive many years ago."

"Any girls in school?"

"There was one who was sort of my friend. She was smart and kind. Very pretty. She had brown hair, blue eyes, and a pointy chin."

I have to smile at the fifth grade memory of a girl being sweet, accepting me and liking me exactly the way I was. It makes me think of Anastasia.

"When I was a high school freshman, there was a beautiful girl, Miranda, but she had no use for me. She was petite, with fair skin and light brown hair. I wanted to be alone with her in the worst way, but the haphephobia, well, you know how it was, how it is. I didn't feel I could approach her. I was the typical horny teenager, but couldn't be with a girl."

"And then you came to be with Elena?"

"Yes."

"You really do have a physical type. Anastasia and the submissives are much like the girls from your youth. And then there's Mrs. Lincoln. I've met Elena Lincoln and she's a bottle blonde. Tall. Statuesque. Were you attracted to her?"

"Yes and no. I enjoyed her skilled mouth, and other physical apparatus. If we're honest, every pussy has the same basic features, and hers got the job done. I felt an attachment to Elena, but no, I never found her attractive. She bought herself a terrible boob job back in the '90s, so her tits weren't even nice. I'm sure they haven't improved with time."

I involuntarily scrunch up my face and frown at the thought of Elena naked. Flynn snorts in laughter.

"Then why did you continue with the relationship, even when you got older and went off to Harvard?"

"I thought Elena was as good as I'd get. Also I felt I owed her somehow. I felt an attachment to her, protective of her."

"Could that have been a symptom of codependency?"

"Shit, John. It's like you're going out of your way to make this difficult."

"Let's go back to your adolescence. Did you ever look at porn?"

"Of course. Having Elliot as an older brother made porn readily available. I uncovered all of El's hiding places. Before the hardcore stuff, when I was about twelve, I discovered my mother's Victoria's Secret catalogs. Elliot called them the Poor Man's Playboy. I was enthralled with all the beautiful women wrapped in silk and lace, just like a Christmas toy, ready to be unwrapped and played with."

"The lingerie was a turn on?"

"Oh, yeah. It still is. I especially like stockings and garter belts. I like the fleshy part of the thigh just above the top of the stocking."

"Do your submissives dress in lingerie for you? I thought they were naked or just in panties."

"That's true. No lingerie, just panties in the playroom."

"If you like stockings and garter belts, why have your submissives not worn them?"

"When I started out as a Dom, Elena helped me. She told me submissives should be naked or just in panties."

"Why not lingerie? It's what you enjoy. Why deny yourself?"

"It's not the way we do things. Elena taught me how things should go."

"And you never questioned this? What would it hurt for the women to dress in lingerie sets?"

"It's just not the way I was taught. And why are you going on about the damned lingerie?"

"The lingerie seems emblematic of a larger issue. Stay with me. Did Elena dress up in lingerie for you?"

"No. She was usually naked. Sometimes she favored black latex and other times leather, neither of which does much for me. For my sixteenth birthday, she asked what I wanted. I requested a blow job with her in stilettos, stockings and garter belt. She laughed at me. I did get the blow job, but she was in a leather bustier and what I referred to as her gestapo boots."

"As a young teen, did you frequently masturbate to these lingerie images in the catalogs?"

"Sure."

"What types of sexual activity were included in your masturbatory fantasies?"

"Not having had sex before, or even kissed a girl, a lot of it was imagining what tits felt like or what it might be like to have my dick in a vagina. I can recall two primary themes to my fantasies. In one I took the girl from behind, so she couldn't see my scars and she couldn't touch me. In the other fantasy, I didn't have haphephobia, and I imagined she could touch me freely, hold me, run her hands all over my body."

"Do you still fantasize about not having haphephobia?"

"No, Elena trained me not to want things that aren't possible. She taught me to concentrate on all the things I can have, and not dwell on the negative."

"So wanting to free yourself from haphephobia is dwelling on the negative?"

"Yes, it's a waste of time to want things you can't have or don't deserve. Elena and I are a lot alike. Romance, marriage, kids…those things just aren't right for us."

"Did she tell you this? I had no idea."

"She just pointed out things I already knew."

"Your self-loathing predisposes you to believe the very worst. There's no reason why you shouldn't have romance, marriage, and children. There's no reason to live with haphephobia forever. Do you think Anastasia would settle for a relationship without romance?"

"No."

"How will you win her heart without romance?"

"I don't know. Maybe you can help me figure that out."

"When Elena approached you, did she already know about your haphephobia?"

"Yes. I suppose my mother told her, or she observed it when she was around the family."

"Tell me more about your adolescent fantasies. Did your fantasies ever include BDSM?"

"No, my fantasies were fairly bland. Actually, I remember seeing BDSM in some of Elliot's magazines, and it didn't do a thing for me at the time. It's funny how things turned out."

"It's fascinating to me that pornographic images of BDSM had no attraction for you, and then you met Elena, and BDSM became a major focus of your life. Have you ever thought how your life might have turned out without Elena taking you under her wing?"

"Not until meeting Anastasia. Actually, Ana has given me back part of my adolescence. Being with Anastasia is exciting. Everything has been spontaneous. Our first sexual encounter was a make out session and dry humping. It was thrilling. She makes me feel like I'm fifteen. We hold hands and kiss. Cuddle. Snuggle. It's so different. I know I don't deserve her, but for the first time in my life…I feel normal."

"Normal in what way? Tell me what normal feels like."

"When she's next to me, I actually feel as if I fit into my family. Out in public with her, I feel like a regular guy, not some freak. Sleeping next to her, I have no night terrors. She tickled me, and it felt natural, playful. When I'm with her, I don't feel lonely. I think I've always been lonely. I was born lonely."

I've never admitted my loneliness to myself, and here I am voicing it aloud to Flynn. I'm astonished at the revelation.

Flynn scribbles furiously, pressing his pen against the thick, paper-filled folder.

"I hope to meet Anastasia. She sounds like a remarkable young woman."

"She's the best." The best in every possible way.

"Let's talk about your first encounter with Elena."

"When I was sent to her house to clean up the yard?"

"Yes. What happened?"

"We've talked about this before. At least twice, John. You know I don't like talking about it."

"Please indulge me. Do you want to reach your goal of some kind of relationship with Anastasia?"

"Shit. Okay. Elena slapped me, then she kissed me."

My words come out fast and I know I sound irritated.

"And you went back the next day?"

"Yes. You know this. We've been through it. I went back day after day. The corporal punishment and sexual activity escalated with each subsequent visit."

"Elena knew you'd been abused and had touch issues. Correct?"

"Yes. We've already talked about this."

"Did she say things to make you feel special and important?"

"I guess so. Elena told me that she and I were different from ordinary people, sexier, more sophisticated. We were people with a refined aesthetic and we had unique needs. She said I was destined for greatness, and BDSM was a way to learn discipline."

"Elena knew you were troubled, having been kicked out of at least two schools. From personal experience, she knew all about horny teenaged boys."

"So?"

"We'll get back to that later. Much like the parable of the boiled frog, Elena gradually increased the intensity of her punishments, correct?"

"You're suggesting she manipulated me, by easing me into the lifestyle slowly, so one day I woke up fully immersed in it, just like the frog in boiling water?"

"Yes."

"You must think I was a really stupid kid. Elena did not manipulate me. All the activity was consensual."

"No, you weren't stupid. Troubled, confused, hormonal, young, inexperienced...but not stupid. There are reasons for statutory rape laws, Christian."

"You agree with Anastasia. You believe I was abused."

I'm pissed. Can't Flynn see I gave consent for Elena's domination?

"Just as a wolf picks off the weakest member of the herd, abusers target children who are troubled. Elena knew about your haphephobia and your early abuse. She knew you'd been fighting and drinking, kicked out of school. She recognized you for the rash, prurient teenager that you were. And just like other abusers, she manipulated your family, using Grace as a source of information to be used against you. Didn't she learn from Grace when you were being disrespectful or disobedient? Didn't she use this information as an excuse to punish you?"

"I guess so, but that doesn't change the facts. The sex with Elena was consensual."

"Can you acknowledge that Elena used your mother in a manipulative way?"

"Yes."

I concede John's point, though it's painful.

"Can you recognize that Elena might have used your troubles to her advantage?"

"I suppose."

The idea that Elena manipulated me is a repugnant one. I've always preferred thinking of my submission as part of my coming of age, something consensual that needed to happen in order for me to become a successful person.

"In an earlier session you explained Elena's assistance in the selection of submissives."

"I don't have time to do all the preliminary interviews and screening, so Elena is very helpful."

"Why do you think she so eagerly chooses submissives for you? Why do you think she doesn't want the women wearing lingerie?"

Where's he going with this?

"She's my friend. She helps me select submissives, because she knows what I like. The no-lingerie rule might be a safety thing. I don't know. I've never asked about the lingerie, because Elena said it wasn't a good idea."

"Think hard, Christian. Why does Elena do the choosing and why does she not want submissives in sexy lingerie?"

"I don't know. You're the fucking expert. You tell me." Flynn is pissing me off.

"You do know. Why does Elena make your playroom choices for you? Was she happy and proud for you to set up your own playroom?"

"No. Initially she was furious. But when she saw how determined I was, she helped me."

"Explain it to me. Why does Elena make your sexual choices for you? Tell me. Why does she still control your sex life, twelve years after your first encounter with her?"

And there it is.

Truth bomb.

Until Anastasia came along this past weekend, Elena controlled my sex life.

For twelve fucking years, either directly or indirectly, she has controlled every orgasm.

I thought I had become a Dom, but I've been a puppet, and she's been the master.

She's still my Domme, and I'm still her submissive.

"Christian? You look pale. Here's some water. Do you need to leave the room for a minute?"

"No."

My hands tremble. Flop sweat drips from my face and neck.

"Can you answer my questions? Why does Elena do the choosing? Why does she not want the women to wear lingerie?" I feel cold, clammy. I resist the nausea and push away the need to be sick. "Christian? Tell me. Why does Elena make your sexual choices?"

"Elena chooses the women so she can control me. She knows I have a thing for lingerie, and she doesn't want the women to be too enticing. Elena doesn't want me to find them attractive. She discourages me from getting attached to women by encouraging me to end their contract when they want more from me."

"And why does she do these things?"

"If I fall for one of the women, she will lose control of me."

"Does Elena want you to be happy?"

"No."

"If you become romantically involved with Anastasia, how do you think Elena will react?"

"Elena would do her best to undermine a relationship with Anastasia."

"What does Elena get from her relationship with you?"

"Social connections, income from the salons, gifts from me, a certain amount of power."

"Ah, yes, power. Do you think she gets a personal rush from knowing she has control over the twenty-fifth richest person on the planet? _People_ magazine's sexiest man and most beautiful person?"

"It's complicated, John. You know I've been trying to distance myself from Elena. Even given her machinations and manipulations, she's been a huge part of my life. I've known her since I was a boy. She comes to all our family functions. This is difficult to face."

"I know it is. But if you want Anastasia in your life, you must confront the truth. You can and will do what needs to be done with Elena. But there's more work to do before you can walk away from her. You've done well today, and I'm proud of you, but we're not finished yet."

"No, I suppose not."

I've been forced to recognize Elena's Machiavellian powers. I'm sick with anger and hurt.

"Your homework is to consider what Anastasia said about being conditioned to prefer BDSM. Is it possible Elena's cycle of escalating pain and pleasure may have conditioned you to accept BDSM as your preferred sexual outlet? Consider what you've told me during today's session. Call me if you have questions or want to bounce around some ideas."

"I don't want all this shit in my head. I just want Anastasia."

"You must do the work, if you want Anastasia. Let's do another breakfast meeting on Thursday morning. Please tell Mrs. Jones that the breakfast burritos were delicious. I enjoyed them very much. Don't forget to call Anastasia today."

"Calling Anastasia will be the high point of my day. See you Thursday."

XXXXXXX

Before heading to the office, I have Taylor take me back to my apartment. I take a quick shower and change my perspiration soaked clothing. I feel much better after freshening up, but I'm still shaken by my appointment with Flynn.

When I exit my private elevator at Grey House, I see Ros speaking to Andrea and Olivia.

"Welcome back, Christian. Do you have time for me right now?"

"Certainly, Ros."

"Sir, would you and Ms. Bailey like coffee?"

"Yes."

I am curt with Andrea. I am always curt with Andrea, but today I feel vaguely guilty about it.

Happy to be back in my office, I sink into my desk chair, and Ros takes her usual spot across from me. I notice some documents on my desk, and some notes from Andrea, including phone messages. I flip through the messages, somehow hoping that Anastasia called me here at Grey House, but there's nothing from her.

"How was your weekend, Christian? You seem distracted."

I'm still reeling from my morning appointment.

"It was the best weekend of my life."

"Your family must be a lot more fun than mine."

"Actually I enjoyed my family quite a bit. More than ever before. My mother and grandmother were completely surprised by the festivities, and the celebration was a great success."

"You seem off. If you had such a great time, why are you agitated, restless?"

"Several reasons I guess. I need to talk to you about the artificial insemination."

"You've decided against it?"

"Yes. When you first presented the idea to me, I readily agreed. I'm never going to use my sperm, so I figured why not let someone else. You and Gwen will be wonderful parents, so that's not a source of concern. But the more I've thought about it, the more uncomfortable I've become. I'm afraid I'll have misgivings later. I don't think I should spread my DNA around."

"You've got to be kidding! You're the ideal donor. Highly intelligent, musically inclined, athletic, tall. In addition to being a ginger, you're fucking hot. Gwen and I agreed...if we were straight girls, we'd be fighting each other to nail you."

Ros has a twinkle in her eye. She always moves through life in good humor.

"Wow. Thank you for the compliments."

"What are friends for, but to point out the obvious."

"Are we friends, Ros?" Maybe we are friends, and I never recognized it.

"I always thought so. You've never thought of us as friends?" Ros sounds wounded.

"I don't have friends, Ros. Haven't you noticed?"

"I've never really thought too much about it. I thought you and Claude Bastille were buddies. You and your brother act like friends. Gwen and I both consider you our friend."

"I'm proud to have you and Gwen for friends. Thank you. I accept your friendship, and I hope you'll accept mine."

"What's wrong, Christian?"

So many things, Ros. So many things.

"I met someone. Someone perfect. But it doesn't seem things are going to work out."

"Really? How did you meet? What's he like? I bet he's a handsome fucker, just like you."

"Not he. She."

"Well, I'll be damned!"

"I'm not gay. I've never been with a man. Only women."

"My mind is blown."

"I'm sure you aren't the only one who will be surprised if this gets out."

"Why would you keep it a secret?"

"I like my privacy."

"May I tell Gwen?"

"I suppose, but please keep it between the two of you."

It's unnecessary for me to ask for discretion. They've both signed NDAs, and they are both trustworthy people.

"Does your family know?"

"Yes. They know the woman I'm interested in. They like her very much."

"Family approval certainly makes things easier. I hope I get to meet her. What's her name?"

"Anastasia. I'm trying to woo her, but I'm not doing a good job."

"The great Christian Grey has to court a woman? That's almost as shocking as you being straight."

"I've got a lot to learn…I'm sorry about my change of heart with the donor situation. Please accept my apology."

"Not gonna lie. I'm disappointed, and Gwen will be too. But it's best to stop the process now, rather than have a misunderstanding later. Thank you for being forthcoming."

"Thank you for your understanding. Meeting at eleven with accounting, right?"

"Right, boss."

Ros gives me a reassuring smile. I can be thankful, that at least as far as Grey House is concerned, all is right with the world.

XXXXXXX

As I clear off the top of my desk, and decide what to take home, my phone goes off. I'm startled by the unexpected ring tone. It's _I'm Too Sexy_ by Right Said Fred.

"Damn it, El. What did you do to my phone?"

"Just wait 'til you hear some of the other ringtones Mia and I put on your phone."

"Now I have to hand it over to Barney and have him clean it up. How did you get my phone long enough to mess with it?"

"We jacked it before one of your afternoon lerv-making sessions with Banana. There are no secrets in the Grey family."

He's wrong about that, but I have no intention of disabusing him of his illusions.

"Shit, El. Don't do that again."

"Ana is the reason I called."

Is she sick with the flu? Damn that Katherine, spreading her flu around like Typhoid Mary.

"Is she okay? Did something happen to her?"

"Chill, baby bro. Ana is fine. I was just wondering what time you were planning to head down to Vancouver this weekend?"

"I haven't made any weekend plans."

"Well, I'm leaving straight from work on Friday evening, and wondered if we could go together. It's three and a half hours of sheer boredom to drive down by myself. Whaddya say?"

Might as well spit it out. Telling Elliot means the rest of my family will know within the next fifteen minutes.

"Anastasia and I aren't seeing each other any more."

"What? What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you walking away from her? Banana is perfect for you."

"I made a mistake and said some things I shouldn't have. Anastasia decided she can't get past some of my issues. Things just fell apart."

"You marched around with a chub all weekend long, hanging on her every word. I figured the next step was a visit to Tiffany's for the ring. Dude, you need to fix this."

"I'm working on it. In the meantime, go ahead and make your own plans. I'll let you know if I get things straightened out. If you see her this weekend, tell her…shit, I don't know what to tell her. Just keep an eye on her. Keep her safe for me."

"Sure, bro. When did everything go south?"

"Early yesterday morning."

"You were in bed with her. Dude, how'd you fuck up sexy time?"

"I told you. It was my fault. I said shit I shouldn't have. She didn't respond well. How's Katherine?"

"Spoke to her a little while ago, and she's holding her own. Ana went to class this morning and is working this afternoon. Kate's been sleeping. She said Ana is making chicken soup for dinner…I've arrived at my work site. Call me if you need to talk. I'm here for you."

I recall what Ros said about Elliot being my friend. El has always been there for me.

"Thanks. Lelliot?"

"Yeah. I'm here."

"You're a great friend and brother."

"I love you, too, bro."

 **Anastasia**

I'm early. Usually José is the early bird, but just like last week, I'm here waiting with my sack of PBJs, water, and fruit.

Kate and I arrived home last night around six. I knew there wasn't much in the fridge to work with, so I made a visit to the Taco Bell drive-thru for our dinner. Kate ate three bites of a burrito and drank some water. She had slept the entire drive from Seattle, and after taking a Tamiflu and a couple of aspirin, she slept through the night. I woke her before I left this morning, and force fed her a bit of oatmeal, Tamiflu, and aspirin, along with her birth control pill.

I attended classes this morning and checked in with my professors and Kate's. I gave them the backdated excuses that Grace provided, and they were all very accommodating.

For some reason I keep checking my phone, expecting a call or text from Christian. Ridiculous I know, since I made it clear things were over.

Maybe I'm an idiot, but I miss him so, so much.

Christian and I were never in a real relationship. There were no promises or commitments made, but I believe deep feelings passed between us in our short time together. He was never my boyfriend, but our parting feels the way I imagine a breakup must be. I miss Christian terribly and long to see him, but of course, that's impossible.

I wonder how he slept last night. I hope he had no night terrors. My own sleep was fitful, and I woke exhausted.

José strides purposefully up the sidewalk. I wave, and he waves in return. We greet with our customary hug.

"You look different, Ana, but I can't put my finger on what's changed."

"Well, it's been a week, so naturally we've both changed a tad. Your hair is getting long."

"Perhaps that's it with you as well. Maybe Big Sky Country made your hair grow longer and cheeks flush brighter. Did you and Kate have a good time?"

"It was wonderful, despite Kate bringing back a case of the flu."

It truly was sublime. The trip of a lifetime. I feel like I went on a honeymoon.

"Bug has the flu? That sucks. Well, tell me about everything."

For obvious reasons I won't be telling José _everything_.

He reaches across me for our lunch bag, and begins serving it up.

"It was a blast, great scenery, mountains and clean air, crisp and cool. We took a trail ride, hiked, zip-lined, played horse shoes, sang, danced, just had so much fun. I think zip-lining was my favorite. Do you know of any zip-lining places around here?"

"The one in Amboy is supposed to be great. Wanna go?"

"Absolutely. Maybe right before graduation. Let's look at our schedules. I'm swamped right now."

"Sounds like a plan. Maybe we can get a group, instead of just the two of us."

"A group would be good, but the two of us wouldn't be awkward. Things aren't uncomfortable right now, are they?"

"No, I guess not. So…it sounds as if everyone got along well in Montana."

"No need to fish for information. Just come out with what you want to know. We've known each other too long for games."

"The guy. What's his name?"

"Which one? They're brothers. Elliot and Christian."

"Which one is yours?"

"Neither."

"Kate made it sound like she paired off with one and you the other."

"That's true, but that doesn't make the man mine."

"Man, eh?"

"He's twenty-seven, so not a boy."

"What's his name?"

"Christian."

"You're making me drag this out of you. It's misery. And it's pissing me off."

"What do you want to know?"

"I want to know what happened with this guy. I want to know how you feel about him, how he feels about you."

"Well, not to sound like a stupid cliché, but it's complicated."

"What are the complications?"

"Too personal to discuss."

"This is you and me."

"Too personal to discuss with anyone, you and Kate included. It's between Christian and me."

"Did you have sex with him?"

"What possible difference could that make?"

"Well, did you?"

"Too personal. None of your business."

"That's an affirmative."

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"Are you in love with him?"

"I don't think so. It's a crush, I think. Though I've never had a crush before. I hope I'm not in love with him."

"Why is that?"

"I don't believe he can ever love me, and I've read too much poetry about the woes of unrequited love to ever want to experience it."

"I can tell you all about unrequited love. It sucks to the power of ten."

"Touché. That was insensitive of me. I apologize."

José's face reflects pain and disappointment. He has almost finished his second sandwich and I've barely touched mine.

"Have you ever considered how effed-up the laws of attraction are? I think Christian is in love with an old friend of his, and I'm crushing on him, and you're crushing on me, and Marisol with the hyphenated name is crushing on you, and that tall, skinny drummer guy is crushing on Marisol. An endless loop of disappointment and unrequited love."

"Marisol with the hyphenated name? Who's that?"

"Becca's friend. Marisol Clark-Sambora. Or is it Sambora-Clark? I can never keep it straight. Just between you and me, hyphenated names are stupid and pretentious."

"What does Marisol look like?"

"Almost as tall as you, about five-eight, dark eyes and short, dark hair. Very pretty. I can't believe you don't know her. We've spent time around her on several occasions."

"I've always been so into you. I haven't noticed anyone else."

"Well, stop looking at me and look around. Marisol is totally into you. You're missing out."

I playfully slap the bill of his baseball cap, and the cap slides down, completely covering his forehead. Annoyed, he pushes it back into place.

"Point her out next time we see her. I'll chat her up." He sighs sadly. "When are you going to see _him_ again?"

"Graduation. Perhaps you'll meet him."

"He must be serious about you, if he's coming to your graduation."

The fact that Christian will be attending graduation in an official capacity isn't something I want to share. There's an NDA in effect, and even if I hadn't signed, I wouldn't be inclined to disclose Christian's identity.

"He's not coming to graduation for me. Before we met, Christian already had plans to attend."

"He knows someone else in your graduating class?"

"Something like that. Think your dad would like to attend? Mom and Bob cancelled. Now I have two extra tickets."

"I'll certainly ask. Won't Christian need one of your tickets?"

"No. He already has a ticket. Stop worrying yourself over him."

"Fine. How did your interviews go?"

"Right out of the gate, Puget Press was a no-go, but I still hold out hope for Seattle Independent. I should hear back before graduation."

"Before you leave town, I'll come by and work on Wanda, service her one last time."

"Thanks. I'll make lasagna. Let me know what day works for you."

José nods, and leans back, looking up at the trees and sky. He reaches for his camera bag.

"There's some nice light filtering through the trees. Let me take some photos of you."

"Sure. Will you send me the best one, so I can send it to my parents? A graduation photo."

"Of course. You'll be at the Portland Place show?"

"With bells on. You can count on me. Maybe Dad will meet me there."

José starts clicking away, and I smile, thinking of the photo session in Christian's office.

"You look happy right now," José observes.

Yes, memories of Christian do take me to a happy place.

XXXXXXX

It's been a long day, mainly because I slept so miserably last night.

Kate finished off a large bowl of my chicken and rice soup, and she's sleeping soundly. She's still feverish and achy, but her cough is almost gone.

I stick my toothbrush in my mouth, and as soon as I work up a good foam, my phone rings. It's 10:15. Nobody calls me this late, except my mother who has no concept of time zones. I give the bathroom sink a quick spit and grab the phone.

Shit. It's Christian.

"Hullo."

"Anastasia?"

"Yesh. Ish me."

"You sound different."

I spit again and rinse.

"You caught me with toothpaste in my mouth. I needed to rinse."

Jeez, so much for being the cool girl.

"Did you have a good day?"

It's so wonderful to hear his voice.

"My day was fine. How about you?"

"Never better. I'm doing great."

 _Never better_? I'm suffering and he's doing _great_. Sheesh.

"That's wonderful." I lie. Just like me, he should be miserable.

"Actually, I'm trying to sound chipper and upbeat, but I'm not doing well. I visited my psychiatrist today, and he told me some things that made me realize I needed to call you."

This sounds heavy and deep. I'm not ready to hear Christian say it was a mistake to spend time with me.

"It's late and I was getting ready—"

"I won't keep you long. I did something wrong and it affects you, so that's why I'm calling."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It has to do with us having sex yesterday morning."

"You've got my attention."

"After you left the room, I discovered the condom was broken. I didn't tell you because it ripped at the bottom, and it appeared as though all of my ejaculate stayed inside the condom."

"So you're telling me you feel confident, that despite the condom breaking, it did its job?"

"Yes, but John...he's my psychiatrist... he said I should tell you, because it's your call, and you should have the option to go purchase some Plan B."

"Please thank John for me. Leave it to a perfect stranger for allowing me the option you didn't see fit to give."

"I'm very sorry, Anastasia, and I hope you can forgive me."

"Forgiven. Just so you know, my period is due in two days, and my periods are like clockwork. The chance of pregnancy has been low during our activities. If you feel comfortable about the condom, I won't worry about it. I do hope you've learned something about full disclosure."

"Yes. This was another instance of me treating you like a submissive, and only telling you what I thought you needed to know. I have an enormous amount of work to do with John. You've provided the impetus, and I'm extremely grateful."

I rein in the urge to upbraid Christian for his arrogance regarding the condom. I do believe he is trying to become healthier, and I want to offer words of encouragement.

"I'm very happy you are making an effort to improve your life."

"There's something else. It kept me awake last night. I never thanked you for giving me your virginity. It's a gift that can only be given once, and you chose me. The honor of being your first will stay with me forever. Thank you, Anastasia, from the bottom of my heart."

He's so sincere, and I hear a bit of the little boy in his words.

"You're welcome."

"How's Katherine?"

"Better. Getting lots of rest, and she ate some of my chicken soup. Her appetite is picking up."

"That's good to hear. I bet your soup is good."

"Kate likes it."

"Anastasia?"

"Yes?"

"What are you wearing?"

What the hell! Is this why he called?

"Did you call me for phone sex?"

"Jesus, no! Though I wouldn't be averse to the idea. It would be another first for me. No, I didn't call you for phone sex. I asked what you're wearing, because I want to visualize you."

"Oh. I actually have a confession of my own. I stole one of your t-shirts and I'm wearing it right now. It's a gray v-neck. I also stole your black boxer briefs and I have those on as well. I only took the two things. They were left on the bathroom floor of my room, so I packed them. Please don't be angry."

"I'm extremely happy to know you're wearing my clothes. It's a very sexy image. I hope you'll wear them often."

"Thank you for being understanding."

"You're welcome. May I call you again sometime?"

"Sure. That would be nice."

"Is this a good time? I remember you saying bedtime is usually between ten-thirty and eleven."

"Yes. This is a good time. I don't want you to worry, so I'll text you. You know…when I get my period."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Good night, Christian."

"Good night, Baby."


	13. Missing You

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 13**

 **Missing You**

 **Thursday, May 12, 2011**

 **Christian**

When I arrive at Flynn's office, Dad is already there. Mrs. Jones has prepared breakfast for three, and Taylor carries in the insulated bags filled with our meals.

Dad wears a big grin and appears happy to see me.

"Having a good week, son?"

"Fine. How about yours?"

"Great! Your mother and I can't stop talking about what a wonderful time we had in Montana. That condom challenge—everyone in the office got a laugh over the video and photos. I was just showing them to John."

Dad waves his phone at me.

Hell, he's probably been passing around his phone to anyone who will look, showing off photos of Ana and me, trying to prove his kid isn't an arrogant asshole incapable of a relationship. Unfortunately, the felicitous photographs hide the sad truth: I fucked up by offering Anastasia a contract, and she isn't interested in trying to make things work between us.

"The reason we're here in John's office has to do with what happened in Montana. I wanted to discuss the dynamic between you and me."

Dad's face falls and his shoulders slump.

"Oh. I thought you'd forgiven me."

"I have forgiven you, but with Mother and Anastasia in the room, I didn't feel I could speak freely. John thought it might be best if we meet here, so things don't devolve into a shouting match."

"I see. What do you need from me?"

"I just need you to listen. Please. I was twenty when I quit Harvard, and perfectly within my rights to do so. You didn't want to invest in my business model, which was perfectly within your rights. I found someone who would risk a hundred grand. I turned that investment into eleven billion, but you still treat me like a child, and not a very bright one."

"Son, I admit to being disappointed—"

"Disappointed? Fuck, at least be honest. You acted like the goddamn world had come to an end."

"Fair enough. I went into a rage when you dropped out of Harvard. Not one of my finer moments."

"Why couldn't you just accept my decision and support my dream? If you didn't want to invest in my business, couldn't you have at least offered encouragement? I felt cut loose, and it fucking hurt."

"Really?" Dad seems genuinely surprised at my admission of hurt. "Because you've never acted like you needed me. I've always felt superfluous. You had a connection to your mother and Mia, to a lesser degree Elliot, but you never seemed to have any use for me. You were so frightened of me when you first came to live with us. I couldn't comfort you. It was a very helpless feeling, not knowing how to help you, how to give you what you needed. I did the best I could."

"I've always needed you, and I know I wasn't an easy kid to be around."

"You were always a sweet kid, son. You were always a pleasure to be around, other than that rough patch in your early teens."

With the reference to my teen years, all the shit with Elena floods over me, and I feel as if I'm losing focus. John brings me back around.

"Christian, please share with your father some of the good memories from your childhood, things you've shared with me during our sessions."

"I remember plenty of good times. I got my love of the outdoors from you. The camping, hiking, fishing...it was all great. You taught me to ride a bike, ski, swim, sail. You read bedtime stories to me, tucked me in, and helped with homework. You were the best kind of dad."

I've never acknowledged it before, and it's difficult to express, but it's true. Other than a few hiccups, Carrick Grey has been an excellent father.

Dad is crying. I don't quite know what to do, so I hand him the box of tissues that have been sitting on the table next to me. We all sit quietly for a minute, until Dad composes himself.

"Carrick, perhaps it would be helpful for Christian if you explain why you were upset when he dropped out of Harvard."

"I know how narcissistic it sounds, but it was my dream that one of my children graduate from my alma mater. Elliot chose UCLA and Mia wasn't academically inclined, so I pinned my hopes on you. When you received your acceptance letter, I was thrilled, because I thought the Harvard connection would make the two of us closer. I hoped Harvard would finally give us something only the two of us could share. When you dropped out, I felt I'd lost my opportunity to be close to you. In a crazy way, your abandonment of Harvard felt like a rejection of me."

"If you wanted us to be close, perhaps you shouldn't have reacted the way you did."

"Yes, a lesson I learned too late. When I suspected Ana might be taking advantage of you, I tried to make myself relevant by coming to your rescue."

"I need your acknowledgement that I'm a grown man. If I need your help, I'll ask for it."

"Will you, son? Will you ask for it? Because even grown men need help now and again."

"Yes, I'll ask for help, if I need it."

"You're a grown man of great accomplishment. I'm proud of you, Son, and your achievements. I love you very much."

It's more than enough to hear my father say I'm grown and that he's proud of me.

"Thanks, Dad. I hope we can move forward with a new understanding."

"Of course, son."

"Christian, Carrick, is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"No." I'm certainly finished.

"Actually, Elliot said you and Ana aren't seeing each other any more. I hope I'm not to blame."

Shit. I was hoping to avoid the topic of Anastasia.

"No, Dad, it's my fault. I said things I shouldn't have."

"There's obviously a shared attraction. I hope all isn't lost. We've grown fond of Ana."

"Perhaps given some time, Ana and I can reestablish our friendship."

"Elliot will be in Vancouver this weekend, but your mother and sister still want to get together for family dinner. Can you call one of them to set something up?"

I resolve to call Mia, and spend time with my family this weekend.

"Sure. Thanks for coming in this morning."

"Any time, son." His eyes shine with sincerity.

After a quick breakfast, Dad heads to his office. It's time to discuss my homework assignment, namely Elena's role in the development of my preference for BDSM.

"Did you give some thought to our last session?"

"Yes, and the nightmares are back with a vengeance."

"Tell me."

"The dreams are all a jumble of Elena with canes, paddles, and cock cages. I hated being on the receiving end of all that shit. It was just a means to an end, and now to think I may have wasted six years of my life as a submissive. Elena's rewards and punishments turned my life around. She helped me focus on goals, and I turned away from alcohol and fighting. But now I think I just traded one set of problems for another."

"Are you rethinking your stance on Elena being your abuser?"

"When Anastasia called Elena an abuser, I think there were a few occasions when Elena did abuse me. She loaned me out to one of her friends, and it wasn't until Elena wanted to loan me out to a male, that I finally stood up to her, and threatened to tell my parents."

"I didn't know she loaned you to a friend. How did it come about?"

"It was just the one time. She loaned me to a Domme friend of hers for an eight-hour session. It was traumatic, though over time I've pretty much gotten past it. I had told Elena that I loved her and asked if she loved me. She flipped out and decided to teach me a lesson about love."

"What are some other abuses?"

"Sometimes I was exhausted or hungry, but she acted like she didn't hear my safe words. She wouldn't remove the restraints or stop the activities. It's difficult recalling these things and talking about them."

"Let's move on. Your homework was to consider if Elena had conditioned you to prefer BDSM. Your thoughts on the topic?"

"It's impossible to say with any certainty, because I might have discovered the lifestyle on my own when I was older. It didn't feed my libido when I saw it in Elliot's magazines, but maybe I would have come around to it in a different way. We'll never know, but I do believe there's a strong possibility I was conditioned to prefer BDSM. After all, Elena used a system of rewards and punishments to introduce the lifestyle."

"How does it make you feel to consider that potentiality, the possibility that it might not be innate preference or conscious choice that determined your sexual preferences?"

"I'm furious. Since returning from Montana, Elena has left several messages, both at the office and on my cell. I'm so angry. I don't want any contact with her right now. Between Anastasia and Elena, it's difficult to focus on my work."

I can't sit still and talk about this. I feel the need to get up. I walk over to one of the windows, and then I begin to pace, wearing a path in John's carpet.

"I recall hearing folks in the lifestyle say how distracted and out of sorts they felt when they were limited to vanilla. All they could think about was how to add kink to the action. When I was with Anastasia, I didn't give kink much thought. I considered flogging her a couple of times, but the vanilla was so exciting, and I was in the moment with her. I did spank her, which both of us enjoyed, but with Anastasia I never felt anything was missing. Vanilla was enough. So now I'm confused about whether BDSM is really my thing. I'll never really know, will I?"

"Probably not. Will the not knowing nag you, or do you think you'll be able to get past it?"

"I don't know. I'm so furious with Elena right now. I want to tear her limb from limb."

"A few minutes ago, you told me of some instances of Elena's abuse. Do you still contend Elena was not an abuser?"

"Other than a few instances, it was consensual. I had plenty of orgasms, so I must have enjoyed it."

"Acknowledging you were abused doesn't make you less manly. In our society, there's a prevailing myth that if a woman used a boy, he 'got lucky,' and if he doesn't feel that way, then there's something wrong with him. He's not manly. Your arousal and orgasms don't mean you wanted it, or asked for it."

"I did want it."

I settle into one of John's leather club chairs. I wish I could sink into it and disappear for a while.

"You were fifteen. Do fifteen-year-olds really know what they want, what they need, what's healthy?"

"I could have stopped it. I could have said no."

"Your self-loathing prevented you from stopping it, from saying no. You were a kid. You wanted to get laid. You didn't want to be caned, loaned out to strangers, and left tied up for hours on end. You wanted to get laid, and you wanted to get control of your life. You achieved those two things, but in my opinion, you paid too high a price. When you said you traded one set of problems for another, that was very insightful."

"There were aspects of BDSM I didn't enjoy, but not enough for me to end my relationship with Elena. She offered physical pleasure. I wanted it. I liked it. And whether or not BDSM would have naturally evolved as my preference, I've enjoyed being a Dom. I'm at a crossroads now, because after being with Anastasia, I like vanilla just as much as the kinky stuff."

"You said Elena has been leaving messages for you. What are your immediate plans regarding her?"

"I think I'll meet up with her as soon as possible. Just a brief meeting. I want to get her off my back, while I think through all this shit. Don't look so worried, John. I'll be on guard."

"Have you considered the codependency issue we spoke of on Tuesday?"

"Not directly. It's not something I want to consider."

"If you want a relationship with Anastasia, it's something you absolutely must confront."

"Isn't this something I can deal with later?"

"Not if you want a successful relationship with Anastasia."

"Shit. I suppose you want to talk about this now."

"Now is as good a time as any. Shall we proceed?"

"There's no delaying the inevitable, I suppose."

"Have you ever heard of traumatic bonding?"

"No."

"Traumatic bonding is the misuse of fear, excitement, and sexual feelings. The abuser misuses these feelings to entangle the victim, to pull the victim into risk-taking behavior they might not choose on their own. The abuser makes the victim think they are an equal participant in the extreme behavior. Does this sound like Elena?"

"Yes," I answer. As much as it pains me to admit it, this description of abuse sounds exactly like Elena.

"Bonding is a beautiful thing, because it can never be lost. Attraction can fade. Love and trust can be destroyed. But bonding grows over time and it endures. Bonding develops through living together, working together, sharing meals, making love, having children together, sharing good times and bad. Bonding within a family or a community is a positive, necessary thing."

Feeling the need to move, I get up from my chair and commence pacing again. Flynn eyes me, then resumes explanation.

"But traumatic bonding is unhealthy, sick, and makes it difficult for the victim to determine boundaries and to enforce boundaries. This is why it's so difficult to leave an abusive relationship. People are quick to judge victims of domestic violence, asking why someone would return to an abusive living situation. Traumatic bonding is what makes it difficult to break away."

I've been wanting to distance myself from Elena, but I can't imagine not having her in my life in some capacity.

"I know I'm bonded to her," I admit. "But am I traumatically bonded to her?"

"I believe so, but you're the one who must make the final evaluation. A great deal of research has been done on this, and we've learned growing up with trauma makes later trauma have more holding power. The lack of safety you experienced in your early childhood made you extra vulnerable in more than one way. It made you an easier target for Elena, and it also made your traumatic bond deeper than it would have been otherwise. People who have been traumatized in early life respond positively to high-risk, dangerous scenarios because it cuts through their numbness, and makes them feel something. What did you feel with Elena? What emotions did she bring out?"

"I felt important, special, desired, adventurous. I liked the secretive nature of our relationship. It was exciting."

"You mention secrecy. That's interesting, because in your day to day dealings, you tend to withhold information and relate to those around you only superficially. This secrecy is an intimacy issue and a self-esteem issue, but it's also symptomatic of surviving trauma."

"Due to the stigma surrounding BDSM, I have no choice but to be secretive."

"You can't hang all of your secrecy on the stigma of BDSM."

"I suppose you're right."

I'm secretive, even when circumstances don't require it.

John is like Anastasia. Time after time, he calls me out on my bullshit.

"It's been said, 'secrets are the currency of intimacy.' We are healthier, both physically and emotionally, when we have someone we trust, someone with whom we can share our deepest secrets. This is especially true with secrets motivated by shame. Your submission to Elena seems to be a great source of shame for you. Am I wrong?"

"No, I do feel shame. What we did was wrong. She was married, and as time passes, I feel more and more ashamed of that."

"Need I continually remind you? You were a kid when the relationship began."

"But several years later I was old enough to know better. John Lincoln never should have found me naked with his wife. Elena and I were both wrong to disrespect her marriage vows."

"All of this is something you may want to share with Anastasia. It's not healthy to completely enmesh yourself in another person, and there are details best kept to oneself. But you may find Anastasia is a trusted, faithful friend, one in whom you can confide. She may surprise you with her acceptance of your foibles. You're a good person, Christian."

"I do hope one day to feel close enough to Anastasia to share everything from my past."

"That's another worthy goal. Working toward that goal means you have to face the consequences of your relationship with Elena. One of those consequences is the craving for risk and intensity you've developed, something no normal relationship will satisfy. This is why you enjoy your submissives."

"But what of Anastasia? Are you saying a normal relationship will never satisfy me?"

"No, I'm not saying that. You can learn to relate to those around you in a healthy way. You can have friends and romance. But it will take time."

"How much time?"

"Hard to say. Having a relationship with Anastasia will require you to completely break ties with Elena and all submissives, not even acknowledging them on the street. That's my opinion and my recommendation."

"I can do that."

To be with Anastasia, I'll do anything.

"Yes, you can, but it's much more difficult than you think. You may have urges to make contact, to reconnect. You may stumble and fall. Mrs. Lincoln will not pass quietly from your life. She will attempt to pull you off course. She may find ways to get to you through your family, through your ties to the community. Eventually you may need to tell your family about her. If you stay away from the old sources of intensity, and you work hard on yourself and your relationships, the old needs will fall away. I've seen many successful recoveries over the years."

"Tell my family? My parents? I don't think so!"

"There will be no room for lies and secrets in a healthy relationship with Anastasia, and in the process of achieving that, it may become necessary to reveal yourself to your family."

"Do you think I can do this? I've already told Anastasia most of my shit, but what if I reveal myself completely to her and my family, only to fail with Anastasia? Then all the personal disclosures will be for naught."

"Personal growth is never in vain, even if the rewards aren't exactly what you've envisioned. If things don't work out with Anastasia, you'll still be in a better position to eventually achieve a successful romantic relationship."

I don't want anyone but Anastasia. There is no room for failure in my scenario. Shit. I'm mentally and emotionally exhausted, and my day has barely begun.

"I'm so fucking overwhelmed."

"That's natural. None of this needs to be fixed today. Did you speak to Anastasia about the broken condom?"

"Yes, I called her Tuesday evening and told her. It was a good conversation. I miss her. She says she'll text me today."

I smile at the thought of communicating with my girl.

"More homework, Christian. You once expressed love for Elena, and you've referred to your need to protect her. You've felt an attachment to her and said you owe her. I want you to consider your feelings for her and what you believe you owe her."

XXXXXXX

I compulsively check my phone, hoping for Ana's promised text. We've been in this meeting with my executive team for the past forty-five minutes, and I'm restless. I want to hear something, anything really, from Ana. Maybe I'll call her tonight.

"Boss, let's pull up the calendar and get this Taiwan trip planned. It appears the window of opportunity begins around the 25th of this month. We'll need to spend at least a couple of weeks over there."

"The earliest I could possibly leave is on the 27th. I'm set to deliver the commencement address at WSU-V on the 26th."

"Okay, we'll set departure for Friday, the 27th. Each department needs to submit an action plan by close of business tomorrow. Boss, anything you'd like to add?"

"No, that covers everything for now."

"Thanks, everyone," Ros tells the group. "Good meeting."

As soon as the last team member has exited the room, Ros launches into a tongue-lashing.

"Jesus, Christian, I've never seen you like that. You were so out of it. What the hell is going on? Are you fixating on your dream woman? You need to figure out how to crush on her, and keep your head in the game."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Ros. Do you think anyone noticed?"

"Maybe not. But we've got a good half dozen irons in the fire with Taiwan."

"You don't have to tell me how important the trip is."

My phone pings and it's a text from Anastasia.

"Sorry, Ros. This is important, too. I'll be in my office."

Ros rolls her eyes and shakes her head disapprovingly.

I shut the door, so I can be alone with Anastasia's text. I'm giddy with excitement.

 **Throw yourself a party! Just like Barney, you get to celebrate Not a Father's Day!**

Not a Father's Day? I take it she got her period, and that's great, but Anastasia knows Barney? What does that have to do with her not being pregnant?

 **How do you know Barney? And what does he have to do with us?**

She responds quickly.

 **Everyone knows Barney. I thought the Barney reference was appropriate to our situation.**

What the fuck? She says everyone knows Barney. Is she saying she knows Barney in the biblical sense? I pull up my contacts and dial my IT guy.

"Hey, boss. What can I do for you?"

"How long have you known Anastasia Steele?"

"I don't know anyone by that name."

"You better tell me now, or you'll find your balls in a blender before lunchtime."

"Honest, boss, I don't know anyone by that name." Barney's voice has risen two octaves.

"Then why is she sending me a text saying she knows you?"

"What does the text say?"

"That's personal."

"I'm sorry, boss, but I can't help you, if you don't tell me what she said. There must be some reasonable explanation for her saying she knows me. I've never met anyone by that name."

"Just tell me what you've been doing with Anastasia. She's mine!"

"Honest, boss, I don't know her, and I certainly wouldn't have anything to do with one of your girls. I'm not into any of that stuff. Honest!"

"Damn it! Anastasia isn't one of _those_ girls! She's THE GIRL! A regular girl. A beautiful girl. How do you know her?"

"I'm telling the truth. I don't know her. This is some kind of mistake. Please, boss, read the text, so we can figure this out."

"Shit. She says, ' _Throw yourself a party! Just like Barney, you get to celebrate Not_ _a Father's Day!_ ' So tell me, how do you know Anastasia?"

"First of all, congratulations. The girl is saying you didn't knock her up. And she's not talking about me. It's a reference to Barney in the TV show, _How I Met Your Mother_."

"What?" A fucking television show?

"It's from an episode where Barney Stinson is so relieved at not having impregnated a girl, he decides to launch a new holiday, Not a Father's Day."

"Oh. Well, shit…I don't watch television, so I didn't catch the reference. Is this Barney Stinson character well known?"

"Yes. It's a very popular show."

"Thanks for the insight, and please forget this conversation ever happened."

I feel foolish, but how was I to know about Barney Stinson and some stupid TV show.

"Sure, boss. Have a good one."

I want to call Anastasia, but decide to text her instead.

 **C: Took me a minute, but I finally realized you were referencing Barney from TV. Not dinosaur Barney. The other one.**

I hope Anastasia doesn't realize I'm a total geek. I know nothing of pop culture.

 **A: How's the world of mergers and acquisitions?**

 **C: Just finished up a meeting. I was distracted, thinking about you instead of business.**

 **A: Careful. If you blink, you might lose a few million. I don't want to be the cause of trouble.**

 **C: A few million is nothing compared to thoughts of you.**

 **A: I'm not used to such lavish flattery. Truth is I just left my senior seminar and spent most of the class thinking of you.**

 **C: How about a phone date? I'd like to call you tonight and learn what had you thinking of me during your class.**

 **A: Why don't you call me just before bedtime, like you did last time?**

 **C: It's a date. Laters, baby.**

I've never had a phone date before. I'm filled with anticipation, and can't wait to hear her voice. But before day's end, there is one distasteful task I must carry out. I must return Elena's calls with one of my own.

I was hoping to get her voice mail, but she answers on the third ring.

"Christian, darling, you weren't returning my calls. I was beginning to worry about you."

"No need for worry. I've just been swamped since returning from Montana."

"Yes, I understand. Grace said you all had a marvelous time."

"We did. It was a wonderful celebration. Mia organized teams and activities. It was fun. How about we meet for dinner this evening? Bring all your financials with you. We can catch up on business and family matters."

"Tonight isn't the best time for me. Perhaps the weekend?"

"No. The weekend won't work for me. It's either tonight or sometime late next month. My schedule is tightly packed with travel."

"Travel?" She asks suspiciously.

"That's what I said. Does the Mile High at seven work for you?"

"Fine. See you tonight."

XXXXXXX

When I reach my table, I see Elena has ordered wine, and is helping herself to some of my 1962 Penfolds Coonawarra Barossa Valley, an outstanding cabernet. It was also an outstanding value, as I was able to purchase half dozen bottles at auction for only $3800 per bottle. I keep some of my private stock here at the club solely for my consumption.

Little does Elena know, this may be the last great bottle of wine she ever drinks. The gravy train might soon be making its last stop in Lincolntown.

I bend down and kiss each cheek as she grasps my forearms. My stomach churns. I must stay composed. I need to react as normally as possible with Elena.

"It's so lovely to see you, Christian. I've missed you."

"Did you bring the financials? Let's get that behind us, before we enjoy our dinner."

I take a cursory glance at the numbers. I put them aside, and text Taylor to bring the folder I left with him. Within seconds Taylor appears, and we exchange folders.

"You're keeping the financial statements?"

"Well, surely that wasn't your only copy. We haven't had a business meeting in several weeks, and I think I'll take the documents to peruse at my leisure." I open the new folder, and reach into my jacket for a pen. "My legal department is tying up some loose ends and they've prepared an NDA for you to sign."

Elena's eyes go wide in disbelief.

"You want _me_ to sign an NDA? You've never required that of me!"

"My attorneys insist on it. Anyone I do business with must sign. Other than family, of course. Elliot and I have shared business, but he's exempt from an NDA."

"I'm just like family to you, darling. You and I have a special bond. I don't understand. Why now?"

"My legal beagles say it's a requirement. I don't pay them just to ignore their advice. And what kind of family member are you? Mother, granny, aunt? In any case, you being family would make our relationship incestuous. You and I are rather twisted, but incest is a step too far, even for deviants like us."

Elena eyes me suspiciously, but then chuckles.

"We are a twisted pair, aren't we? The things we've done together."

Her voice softens, and she reaches for my hand. I ignore her reach, and occupy myself by pouring a glass of cabernet.

"Are you ready to sign the NDA? Please read it carefully. It covers the entire time you've known me, from the age of six until the time of your death. You will never speak of me, my family, or my business."

"Christian...darling...I don't understand why I have to sign this. Have I not proven my loyalty to you and your family?"

We lock eyes. It's a stand off. This time I'm the Dom and she's the sub.

"I won't repeat myself. Sign it or I'll be forced to dissolve our business arrangement."

"Where's this coming from? You aren't being fair," she whines girlishly. It's quite unbecoming.

"This is GEH legal protocol, and it must be followed. There's no way around it."

Elena glares menacingly. If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under, encased in cement.

She slowly reads the document and signs with a dramatic huff.

"You left off the date."

She adds the date, and tosses the pen across the table in frustration. Taylor is right on cue, arriving to sign his name as a witness and take the folder away.

"Well, Elena, now we have our business out of the way, so let's relax and catch up."

I know what's coming. She's been talking to Mother.

"Tell me about Montana. Grace says you've met a girl."

"How did she know about that? I thought my movements had been discreet."

"What do you mean, _how did she know_? Grace says this Ana girl was by your side the entire weekend, even sleeping in your bed. So much for discretion."

Clearly I need to warn my family off Elena. They are entirely too forthcoming. I remember my promise to Ana, never to discuss our relationship with Elena.

"Grace thinks Ana is my girl? She's confused. The girl I'm interested in is named Jasmine. She goes by her nickname, Jazzy."

"Jazzy?" Elena snorts softly. "She sounds like a stripper."

"She's not a stripper. She's a call girl."

Elena cocks her head, perplexed by what I've said.

"What?! Have you lost your mind? You're interested in a call girl? A whore?"

"God damn it! Don't you ever refer to Jazzy as a whore. She's beautiful, Elena. Yes, she's a pro, but she has a heart of gold. For the first time, I think I'm in love."

"You've absolutely lost your mind! You think you've…fallen in love? And she's the proverbial hooker with a heart of gold."

Messing with Elena's head is quite entertaining.

"Don't mock my feelings. They're real."

"Is she experienced in the lifestyle?"

"Nope. Straight up vanilla."

"I know you. You have needs," she scoffs. "You'll never be satisfied with vanilla."

"Oh, Jazzy is very interested in exploring the lifestyle, especially now."

"Now?"

"Now she has an experienced Dom for a boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? You? This is unbelievable! Where does Jazzy live?"

"She's moving to Seattle. We're going to be quite happy together."

"You've gone mad. What the hell has happened to you? And what about the Ana girl?"

Elena is bewildered. She appears to have entered the Twilight Zone.

This is too much fucking fun.

"What of her? She's a nice girl. She's not Jazzy, if you get my drift, but she's very pleasant."

"How could Grace get things so wrong? There's something you're not telling me."

"Mother sees what she wants to see. You know how she is. Oh, I need to remind you. The NDA affects your relationship with my family. The document you just signed precludes you from discussing me in any way with anyone, including Mother. That means no discussion of Jazzy, Ana, submissives, GEH, the salons, or any other facet of my life. No discussion of me with anyone, ever, and that includes members of my family."

"How am I supposed to manage that? How do I interact with your family and not mention your name? Not talk about the salons? What's going on?"

"How you manage is up to you, but if you speak one word about me, there will be an immediate dissolution of our business arrangement."

Elena's eyes are wide. She is speechless with disbelief. Just as planned, Taylor calls. The man deserves a raise.

"Really?...That sounds serious…Okay, I'll leave right now…Thanks for letting me know."

"Business emergency. Gotta go. Drink up and enjoy your meal. I'll be travelling a great deal for the next few weeks. San Francisco, Portland, Taiwan. Our next business meeting won't be until next month. In the meantime, stay well."

I walk away before she can say goodbye. It brings me pleasure to imagine how confused and pissed off she must be right now.

On the way home, I tell Taylor to change all security codes and passwords, both at Escala and Grey House. Per usual, Taylor is already one step ahead. It was taken care of earlier today.

I need to keep Elena as far away as possible. I need to clear my head and figure out what to do with her.

XXXXXXX

I'm leaving sweaty imprints on my phone, as I nervously move it back and forth between my hands. 10:13, 10:14, 10:15. Finally. I press Anastasia's name on the list of contacts.

It only rings once before she picks up. I take this as a sign she was anticipating my call.

"Hi, Christian." Her voice is bright and clear.

"Hi. How was your day?"

"Nice. I had a good day. How about you?"

I decide to just throw my heart out there, and hope she doesn't stomp on it.

"My day was great, because I thought of you all day."

"I thought of you, too."

She is so sweet.

"Senior seminar. I remember. And what were your thoughts?"

"Remember how I was trying to figure why I was attracted to you?"

"Yes. So Katherine can fix you up with someone suitable. Don't remind me."

I hate the thought of Anastasia with anyone else.

"In the middle of the seminar, I had a breakthrough."

"And?"

"It hit me like a ton of bricks. You fit the Byronic Hero archetype."

"Which means?"

"You are the living, breathing incarnation of my book boyfriends. You are the composite of romantic perfection; at least as far as English literature goes."

Anastasia giggles, and my dick approves.

"Tell me more. I'm fascinated."

"You're highly intelligent, mysterious, sophisticated, self-critical. You're very moody. I've been wondering…are you bi-polar?"

"No, I've been screened several times for every mental disorder known to mankind, and I've never been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder."

"I asked because of the moodiness."

"Because of night terrors, I don't sleep well, and that affects my mood. I've been diagnosed with dysthymia, which is chronic depression. I don't take any meds. I try to eat well, exercise, and use therapy to manage it. I've had the dysthymia since before I was a Grey. It's probably linked to the trauma I encountered as a toddler."

"Will you ever tell me about that?"

"Maybe. One day."

I think of what Flynn said about secrets being unhealthy, about confiding in Anastasia.

"I didn't mean to make you sad. I just brought up your moodiness because it's a characteristic of the Byronic model. Do you want to hear more about what you and my book boyfriends have in common?"

Her question sounds playful. I'm intrigued.

"Sure."

"You're a dominant, sexually, but also in business. Most importantly, you're seductive and sensual."

"Who are these book boyfriends of yours?"

"Rochester, Angel Clare, Heathcliff. Mr. Rochester is my favorite."

"Have you shared this with Katherine and put in your boyfriend order? I take it you're going for the Rochester model."

Anastasia giggles at my little joke.

"Definitely Rochester, but we're holding off until Seattle for the boyfriend shopping."

"Do you ever think of us? As a couple? Or have you given up on me?"

"I just don't see how it will work. I can't be submissive. And I feel too inexperienced to deal with the likes of Mrs. Robinson and all those women in your past."

"What if I could reorder my life and we could compromise? I'm trying, Anastasia. I'm trying to get healthier and move forward in a different way."

"Don't change for me. Don't you dare do it for me."

"I want to change for us, so we can be together."

"No. Don't figure me into the equation. Make the changes solely for yourself, and then we'll see. I need to take care of some things myself. I need to see my mother soon. I have my own set of issues, and I need to set some things right with her."

I wonder what she needs to set right with her mother. I want to ask her, but the timing doesn't feel right.

"You're planning a trip to Georgia?"

"Yes, it's all arranged. I'm taking the red eye on Friday, the 27th, after we move our things to Seattle. Mia and Elliot have volunteered to help, by the way. Since I'm going out of town, they're staying the weekend with Kate to help her arrange the apartment. The following week, Kate is going to Barbados with her family. Looks like Elliot will be joining her."

I envy my brother going away with his girl. I wish Anastasia could travel with me.

"I'd offer to help, but I'm going to Taiwan that morning. I'll be gone for at least two weeks. I wish you could go with me. We could travel for a few days when my business is finished."

"Thank you for the invitation, but I must see my mom. I haven't seen her since Thanksgiving."

"Maybe another trip then. Some other time. Any word on a job yet?"

"No, but if I don't get hired by SIP, Papa K has a job for me at KKAV, during the morning news and talk block."

"Television news? I can see you doing that. News is, after all, a form of storytelling."

"Exactly. I think I might enjoy television."

"How's Katherine?"

"She's coming along, feeling much better, I think. She started working on your interview article today, and should be finished tomorrow. I chose the photographs."

"Which images did you choose?"

"Patience, Mr. Grey. You'll have to wait for the article to come out."

"What are your plans this weekend?"

I hope Anastasia will invite me down to Vancouver. I could call Elliot and we could drive down together.

"I'm working at Clayton's all weekend and finishing up the last of my assignments. I need to buckle down and start cramming for finals."

"Elliot says he'll be visiting Katherine for the weekend."

"Yes, so maybe it's a good thing for me to work all weekend. It will give them some time alone. Your brother is good for Kate. They are good together."

"Unlike us? I didn't miss the subtext of your assessment."

"No subtext intended. In some ways I think you and I are very good for each other. I'm just not sophisticated enough to handle all your issues. We've been through this."

"Elliot has included Katherine in some of his sessions with Flynn. They've been skyping. Would you feel comfortable speaking to Flynn? Perhaps he can illuminate and clarify some of my issues for you."

"I'll consider it. Maybe a face-to-face meeting after I move to Seattle? Could we talk about this again after I'm settled?"

"Of course." I remember what Flynn said about keeping secrets. I need to reveal mine to Anastasia.

"I hope you have something interesting planned for yourself this weekend."

"I'll work out a couple of times with my trainer, go running with Taylor, see my folks for dinner. I'm also scheduled to go look at a couple of houses. I'm looking for a place on the Sound."

"You're moving out of your apartment? That place sounds swanky. Why would you want to leave?"

"I'm looking for a weekend place. A place where I can get away from the city, where I can dock my boat. I currently keep it at the marina, but I'd like to have more convenience."

"Why the Sound? Your parents live in Bellevue. Why not Lake Washington? You'd be closer to your parents, and you'd still have access to the Sound."

Anastasia does have a point. I grew up on Lake Washington and have always enjoyed the area.

"The Sound has always been my fantasy."

"Oh," Ana giggles. "I guess I had the wrong idea about your fantasies."

"You, me, alone on my boat. That's the best fantasy. Will you ever indulge me?"

"If only things were easier."

"I'm going to make everything easier, baby. I promise. I'm going to clean house."

Both of us are silent, not knowing what to say. I decide to say what's on my heart.

"I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Christian. So, so much."

Her words are precious to me. I actually stop breathing for a moment.

"So you think I should get a house on Lake Washington, not the Sound?"

If Anastasia doesn't like the Sound, I won't even look at properties there. I'll cancel my appointment with Ms. Kelly.

"That's not my call, not my business."

"I'm looking for advice."

"Well, if I were you, I'd want to be closer to family. I wouldn't be so far from Bellevue."

"Thank you. I appreciate the input."

"You're welcome."

"Commencement should be fun. I look forward to seeing you cross the stage in your cap and gown."

"Uhm...if you aren't too busy...would you like to have dinner with us after the ceremony?"

The stars have aligned and it's my lucky day. Anastasia's inviting me out with her friends and family.

My heart leaps with joy.

"Yes!" I answer too quickly. "That would be great. Will your dad mind?"

"Of course not. I'd like for him to meet you. You're my friend. You're important to me."

Oh, baby, you're more than important to me. You rock my world.

"I look forward to it. How about another phone date? Sunday night. To see how your weekend went?"

"Of course. I'd like that."

"Good night, baby."

"Good night, Christian."


	14. I Love You

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 14**

 **I Love You**

 **Saturday, May 21, 2011**

 **Christian**

After almost daily sessions with John Flynn, the full measure of what Elena took from me is becoming clear.

While other teenagers tentatively fumbled their way across the landscape of sexual discovery, I was allowed no such privilege. My opportunity, my sexual journey, was hijacked, stolen from me by a sexual predator.

In one of my sessions with Flynn, I came to realize how Elena influenced my decision to drop out of Harvard. I never had the normal college experience. My responsibilities to Elena as her submissive prevented me from going to parties, being with girls, hanging out with the row team. All things that are part of being away from home for the first time were forbidden by my Domme. Perhaps if I'd not been under Elena's control, I would've enjoyed Harvard enough to stay for four years and graduate. It's another of those things I'll never know, and it burns in my gut.

Several days ago Flynn asked me to consider what I owe Elena.

My conclusion: not a damned thing.

At one time, I believed I owed Elena for choosing me, straightening me out, making a man out of me. She repeatedly reminded me how fortunate I was to have her as my Domme. I should be grateful for her help, she told me, for she was my only true friend.

Elena isolated me from my family, constantly exhorting that only she could understand me and my needs. My parents were nice people, she conceded, but they could never accept me for who I am. They could never understand my predilections and the "special relationship" Elena and I shared.

My Domme dangled sexual inducements to discourage me from attending family engagements.

"You belong to me, not your family. You will devise a suitable excuse, and spend your day with me. If you take your punishments well, and if your cunnilingus skills show improvement, I'll fellate you. I may even allow you to cum in my mouth."

Elena promised a panoply of carnal treats, and without fail, I yielded to her temptations.

I feel great contrition now for the deceit and disrespect I heaped upon my family.

I feel doubly penitent for my allowance and abetment of Elena's deception. She took great delight in putting one over on my parents. Elena shamelessly used them, particularly my mother. When she wasn't finagling an invitation to a luncheon or soiree, Elena was pumping my mother for community gossip.

Elena also gleaned information from my mother regarding my schoolwork, therapy, and kickboxing lessons, seeking excuses to punish me. If I lost a kickboxing match or didn't ace a test, I'd be whipped, caned, or worst of all, my orgasms would be denied.

I've often wondered how my parents' friendship with the Lincolns began. They were our neighbors, residing a few doors down. The crude, tough talking John Lincoln, and my affable, erudite father have very different temperaments. I recall them playing golf together fairly frequently, and I wonder how their interactions worked to mutual benefit. Was it business interests, some sort of networking?

After the divorce, Linc moved to Mercer Island. My parents run into him occasionally at social functions, always greeting him warmly.

My mother and Elena are nothing alike. They have little in common, though Elena likes to pretend she shares my mother's philanthropic interests. They make an unlikely pair, but Mother has a kind, hopeful heart, and always wants to see the best in others.

After discovering the two of us in his basement, Linc beat Elena to a pulp, and then left her financially strapped, all because of me, or so I believed. Through discussions with Flynn, I now understand the divorce wasn't my fault, and Elena's living situation was never my responsibility.

Elena declined to press charges against Linc for the assault, saying she wanted to protect me and my fledgling enterprise, GEH. She didn't want Linc pulling me into their messy divorce. At long last the blinders are off, and I know this had little to with me, and more to do with protecting Elena's own reputation and social standing.

After the sale of the Lincoln estate, Elena moved to a much smaller house in Beaux Arts Village, a few miles south of my parents. It's an affluent, well-established neighborhood. The house is beautifully decorated and landscaped, courtesy of yours truly. When Elena has had home repairs or other large expenses, I've always helped her out.

While still married to Linc, Elena loaned me one hundred thousand dollars, but I've repaid that amount at least tenfold. Just in cash, I've given her over a million during the past six years. I also started up the salon chain for her, and paid her a manager's salary with executive style benefits.

Yes, for six years I've been Elena's ATM.

In return, Elena constructed a system of compulsory BDSM rules, insisting they were necessary for my well-being. She recruited submissives who would follow those rules, women she knew couldn't fully satisfy me. The only sub who challenged the rules was Leila Williams. While I found Leila's small rebellions and flirtations somewhat beguiling, I was fully committed to Elena's rules, and quickly tossed Leila aside as soon as she requested "more" from our arrangement.

I consider all the skills I acquired through Elena's mentoring, and each one directly benefitted her. Everything, from the dancing to the sex, had been about Elena and her needs, though she had cleverly framed all of it as being for my personal growth and development.

For a kid with a supposedly high IQ, I was easily manipulated. The fact that all this carried on well into my adulthood has me feeling embarrassed and ashamed. Flynn has helped me see this was all part of the traumatic bonding and the codependency that developed as a result.

This morning I am once again in Flynn's office, and just as we've done dozens of times over the past two years, we discuss my childhood and my family.

"The last attempt at treating your haphephobia was when you were ten. Can you tell me again about earlier attempts?"

"When I was ten, the psychiatrist called it exposure therapy, and the same thing had been attempted when I was six or seven. Those are the only times I was treated for the haphephobia. It was just too tough. I flipped out and couldn't handle it. My parents argued over it. I overheard Dad say we should try other therapies. My mother said she couldn't endure seeing me suffer, and she thought treatment could wait until I was older."

"As your therapist, I don't often take sides, but your father was correct on this. There were other therapies available, which would have been much more tolerable. Exposure therapy is designed to work quickly, but can be quite traumatic, and in the long term is oftentimes less effective than other therapies. For a child suffering from severe PTSD, I can understand how you wouldn't have been able to sustain it."

"I was able to tolerate Anastasia using her mouth on the area below my scars. I actually liked it very much."

If I ever get the opportunity, I plan to ask my girl to kiss that spot again. Jesus, I miss her so fucking much.

"And that experience makes me think you are ready to try again, this time with a different treatment methodology."

"I'd like that."

"Excellent. I'll come up with a treatment plan."

I'm exhilarated by the thought Anastasia might one day be able to touch every square inch of me.

"Your folks...during your early teens what was going on with them?"

"They were busy, building their professional practices."

"What kind of supervision did they provide for you?"

"Once I started ninth grade, none really. Mom worked a half-day on Wednesdays, and that was the day she picked me up from school, took me to therapy, and then kickboxing. The other days, I took the bus home and was responsible for myself, getting my homework done. As soon as Elliot could drive, he was off doing his own thing. Mia went to a different school. Grammy Grey was alive then, and she'd pick Mia up, take Mia back to her house, help her with homework, teach her how to cook, things like that."

"So when you started to act out, what were your parents' reactions?"

"They were confused about what to do, aggravated by all the trouble I created, overwhelmed, I guess. I overheard several arguments about what to do for me."

"What was Elliot doing during this time?"

"Elliot had just left home and was a freshman at UCLA. Looking back, I really missed him."

"Do you think Elliot's departure contributed to your acting out?"

"It probably didn't help. Elliot sort of looked out for me, though I didn't realize it fully at the time."

"How long did your behavior issues go on before Mrs. Lincoln stepped into the picture?"

"A couple of months. I was getting into fights almost daily. Got kicked out of three schools. I was drinking, stealing my dad's liquor. My grades never slipped, due to the work being so easy for me."

"How did all this affect Mia?"

"Don't really know. She was only eight at the time."

"After Mrs. Lincoln's so-called intervention and the resulting improvement in your behavior, how did your parents react?"

"Relief. They were able to go back to their routines."

"Did they investigate? Ask questions about what had changed within you?"

"No. They just voiced relief, approval at my turn around."

"How do you think they'll feel if they learn about Mrs. Lincoln's role in your rapid recovery?"

"Betrayed. Angry. Maybe guilty, if they think back on things."

"Betrayed and angry. Why these feelings?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Perhaps, but I need you to say it aloud, so it can be properly recognized."

"Betrayed by Elena. And by me. Angry that it happened and went on for so long. Angry because I never told them. Angry at Elena for taking advantage of me, for using them to get to me."

"At whom do you believe they'll be the angriest?"

"Probably Elena, but my culpability can't be dismissed. I was in on the deception. I let it go on for so long."

"You were a child, when it began. You were manipulated in the worst of ways. Your parents are the kind of people who will understand better than you think. Have you thought more about divulging your abuse? Are you prepared for that?"

As I contemplate telling my parents about my secret life, dread and apprehension fill me. I'm not ready. I can't go there yet.

"Hell, no, I'm not prepared. Disclosure will launch a shitstorm."

"If you'd like my presence at that conversation, I can do that."

"Thank you. I'll consider it."

"What were your feelings about your parents during this time? While you were acting out?"

"I felt misunderstood. I guess I expected my parents to be mind readers, to understand how lonely I was, how isolated I felt. In some ways, I felt ignored, disregarded by them. They didn't check up on my whereabouts, didn't question my lame alibis, and I guess that's how Elena was able to slither in and fill a void. Couldn't my parents see I was in agony? All those hormones raging, the frustration at not being able to have a girl touch me. I was brimming with fury, but at the same time, I didn't have the right to be angry at them."

"Why couldn't you be angry? Why deny your feelings?"

"My parents had already done so much for me. I was a little piece of shit, and they gave me a home. To want understanding from them seemed greedy somehow. It all comes back to the self-loathing, doesn't it? All that shit from before I was a Grey."

Flynn nods his head.

"If you feel unworthy of love from your parents, how will you deal with love from a woman? Will you undermine love when it is offered to you?"

"I don't know. I hope not. Shit. I'm just one problem on top of another, aren't I?"

"We're all built that way. It's called the human condition."

"Do you think it's possible Anastasia could ever love me?"

"Of course it's possible. That's why I want you prepared for receiving love. Your feelings of unworthiness may cause you to sabotage your own happiness."

"I'm learning that love and friendship can only exist in the presence of mutual respect. You've hammered that home, and I understand that now. Any friendship I thought I had with Elena was just an illusion."

I sigh loudly and reflexively pull at my hair.

"You seem uncertain about something. Afraid, perhaps?"

"Yes, afraid. Worried. If I do get the chance to be with Anastasia, I'm afraid I'll fuck it up. I'm worried I'll treat her like a sub, say the wrong things, drive her away."

"You'll screw up, but if the two of you work extraordinarily hard, you'll endure. Rhian and I have been married for twelve years, and I still screw up on a regular basis. You'll be okay, Christian. I believe that, and it's important for you to believe it."

XXXXXXX

Twelve years. The length of the Flynns' marriage and the amount of time I've lost to Elena Lincoln. My stomach churns every time I consider what I've given up.

Just three weeks ago my revelations would have been unthinkable. I hid in my towers, Grey House and Escala, dulled by ennui, depression, and arrogance.

Then came Anastasia Steele, unpretentious, humble, and with no idea of her worth. Anastasia has given me a sample of what "normal" feels like.

There will be no turning back. I've made my choice.

Ana.

After my session with Flynn, I returned to Grey House and met with my personal attorney, Cleve Anderson. I shared Elena's misdeeds with him. Cleve tried to hide his shock, but wasn't very successful. He told me the statute of limitations had run out. She couldn't be prosecuted for sexual abuse, but perhaps I could pursue a civil suit. Cleve asked if I had any documentation, photos or letters, evidence of the abuse. Elena was very careful, and of course, I have no proof of wrongdoing on her part. It's my word against hers.

I suspect Elena took photographs while I was blindfolded. I've called in Barney, Welch, and Taylor, to see if anything can be recovered from her electronic devices. I'm asking them to do something illegal, but all three assure me they'll figure out a way to get the job done without detection.

The Deep Web stores anything that a search engine can't find, things like court records and licensing databases. These are records hidden by governments and corporations for concerns of security and privacy. The Deep Web is a piece of cake for my guys.

There's a nasty little corner of the Deep Web, where terrorists, drug dealers, and child porn traffickers like to hide, and that small, slimy slice of the internet is called the Dark Web. It's the filthy underbelly of the internet, intentionally hidden for nefarious purposes. This is where my team may have to bring in some big guns with specialized hacking skills. I caution them not to underestimate Elena, and I give instructions to spare no expense while digging through her cyber-trash. If something is there, I want it found as quickly as possible.

Elena has gone radio silent since our last meeting at the Mile High Club.

I looked over the financial statements, but nothing seemed out of order. I forwarded the statements to my head of accounting, Roy Carlton, who deemed the figures from the downtown salon to be out of line with the others. Roy told me it looked suspicious, but it might be nothing. Just to be certain, he passed the documents to Marvella Silver, our certified forensic accountant. Marvella was recruited from the FBI, and she's top-notch.

Marvella found small inconsistencies in all the salons, enough to raise questions and warrant surprise audits of all four Esclava salons. Roy and Marvella have pulled in more forensic accountants and salon consultants, organizing them into four teams, one for each salon. Each team will also have two security personnel, just in case Elena or her salon minions decide to step out of line.

On Tuesday, May 31st at 9 am, a team will descend upon each salon, and all of the salons will be simultaneously audited, valuated, and assessed for performance.

Embezzlement or not, as of June 1st, Elena and I will no longer be business partners. Elena is a sexual predator, and as such, no relationship with her can ever be appropriate. Flynn has helped me see clearly. With or without Anastasia in my life, Elena needs to become history.

Elena and I are partners with a 60/40 split in my favor. The buildings which house the salons are owned solely by GEH and managed through my commercial real estate division. When we settle up, I believe Elena will be shocked by the small size of her payout.

I'll be in Taiwan when all this goes down. Flynn and I agreed it would be best not to see Elena face to face, until I feel secure enough to confide in my family about the abuse. Flynn is preparing me for my parents' reactions. I'm just not quite ready to have that difficult conversation. Perhaps I can tell them when I return from Taiwan.

XXXXXXX

Anastasia and I have been phoning and texting constantly for the past couple of weeks. Per Flynn's guidance, I keep the banter light, conversational, friendly. There've been no references to anything of a sexual nature. We've just been getting to know one another as friends through nightly phone dates.

"Chrissy? Hiya." My baby sister belches into the phone. "Whaddup?"

I've called at the usual time, but Mia answers Anastasia's phone. She sounds intoxicated.

"What's going on, Mia? Maybe you've had enough to drink. Who's there with you?"

I hear music, laughter, and voices. A party? When we spoke last night, Anastasia never mentioned anything about throwing a party, and suddenly I wonder if she has another life, something she's hiding. I have trust issues, so I try my best to quash this thought.

"Ellie and I are at Kate and Ana's. There's also Ethan, José, Becca, Travis, and a girl named Marisol. A guy, Levi, was here, but he got pissed off and left. Something about being jealous of El."

"Having a party?"

"Didn't start out that way, but turned into one. Here's Ana. She wants you."

I hear rustling.

"Hi. Let me go to my room. It's too noisy in here."

Anastasia's breathing picks up as she moves to her room. I wonder what her room looks like. Maybe I'll get to take a peek when I go down for graduation. I'm envious of Mia and Elliot, as they've been spending a lot of time near Ana. Mia, unemployed and with too much time on her hands, has been down there for a few days, sleeping on the sofa.

I hear the shutting of a door.

"How are you? It's Saturday. I hope you didn't go to your office."

"Yes, I worked almost a full day. I called my accounting team in for a meeting."

"Working on a Saturday, Mr. Grey? No, no, that won't do. You should be on that boat of yours or soaring through the air in a glider."

"I'll take it under advisement. How was your day? Did Mia and Elliot actually end up being helpful?"

"This has been the craziest day. I'm exhausted. Yes, Mia and Elliot were very helpful this morning. Our humble yard sale yielded over eight hundred dollars. Kate decided we should celebrate tonight with a little get-together."

"Have those boys been bothering you?"

"Boys?"

"José and Ethan."

Anastasia snorts and giggles.

"You worry too much. Nobody bothers me. It's all good. I made lasagna. José worked on my car. Ethan found a bunch of old fireworks and set those off in front of our duplex. Oh, and there was this crazy fight over a stupid fly."

I love it when Anastasia tells me about her day.

"A fly?"

"Yes, there was this huge pesky fly inside the apartment. It landed on Kate's head, so Ethan rolled up a magazine and swatted at Kate. He smacked her pretty hard. Kate didn't know it was Ethan, and thought it was José or Elliot, so she turned around and punched each of them in the shoulder." Anastasia giggles. "José knew Ethan had started it, so he pinned Ethan with an old high school wrestling move." More giggles from my girl. "Mia tried to help Ethan by jumping on José. Anyway, the whole thing…Excuse me, Christian. Hold on."

I hear voices in the background. Elliot and Katherine?

"Get out! I want privacy. Out!"

She wants them away from her, so we can speak privately. She is so sweet.

"Ana and Christian, sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S—" I don't recognize the voice, but it's male.

"Out! All of you! You know how much I need my alone time with Christian."

 **BOOM.**

I feel it in my head, my heart, my gut, my dick.

That's it. Game over.

I know in an instant. I am consumed with love for Anastasia Rose Steele.

From my visits with Flynn, I had considered it, suspected it.

Now I am certain it's true.

I am completely, irrevocably, undeniably in love with Anastasia.

How do things like this go? Do I tell her how I feel?

If I tell her I'm in love with her, it might spook her, frighten her off. And if she doesn't reciprocate my feelings, I don't think I can bear the rejection.

I hear garbled voices and rustling, and then Anastasia is back on the line.

"Sorry about that. They're gone now. Are you still there? Christian?"

She was created just for me.

She is perfection.

She is mine.

"Christian?"

"Yes, I'm still here."

"You sound funny. So anyway, the whole thing ended up like the Keystone Cops. Are you listening?"

"Yes."

"Oh, well, it was ridiculously funny to me, but the way I'm telling it—"

"Everything you say fascinates and entertains me."

She has no idea of her power over me. I'm under her spell.

"You are a very sweet and kind man. Did you know that?"

Could Anastasia ever love me? Oh, my beautiful Ana.

"You and my mother are the only people who have ever held that opinion."

"I don't believe that for a minute." I hear rustling, like maybe she's moving the covers on her bed. "I was wondering. Um, well, the night before graduation, a bunch of us plan to bar hop in Portland. Mia and Elliot are coming. Would you like to join us?"

Anastasia sounds nervous, unsure of herself.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" I tease her.

"Um, no. Well, maybe. It's a group thing, and I thought you might like to come along."

"A group thing? Does that mean I'll have to share you? I don't share very well."

"We can stay near each other all evening, if that would make you feel most comfortable."

"I like the way that sounds."

"Then you'll join us?"

"Yes. I'd like very much to bar hop with you. This will be another first, Miss Steele."

Anastasia provides me with one glorious memory after another.

I became infatuated with Anastasia Rose Steele on the 5th of May, sometime around 11:15 am.

Looking back, I believe I fell in love with her on my jet the evening of that same day. I just couldn't recognize the feeling.

But tonight at exactly 10:22 pm, I know without a scintilla of doubt. I am absolutely, positively head over heels in love with Miss Anastasia Rose Steele.

 **Tuesday, May 24, 2011**

 **Christian**

I've decided. It's time to forewarn my family, let them know something is afoot with Elena. Yesterday I called my father for a meeting. He rescheduled clients to meet today for lunch.

Dad is thrilled at my invitation, and he actually arrives a few minutes early. We shake hands and I'm surprised by the affection I feel for him. My old animosity is almost gone, and we're both relaxed.

"The food isn't here yet. I've just been watching traffic."

Dad follows me to the wall of windows.

"I don't care about lunch, son. I'm just so damn grateful to be here."

We each aimlessly scan the street below, struggling with emotions that lie deep beneath our words.

"I did promise to call you when I need help."

"What's wrong? You don't look well. Are you ill?"

"No. It's a legal issue. Also a personal one."

"What do you need? Representation?"

My father's face is lined with concern and bewilderment.

"Cleve and the rest of my legal team seem to have everything in hand. My problem is with Elena and the salons. There's a possibility she's embezzling, and whether she is or isn't, I no longer want to partner with her. I don't want any kind of relationship with her, business or social."

"Embezzlement? Elena? This isn't at all what I expected. How long have you had problems with her?"

"A long time. A very long time. While I'm away in Taiwan, I'm surprising Elena with an audit and inspection of the salon operations. I just recently had her sign an NDA, something I should have done long ago. For years Elena has been pumping Mother for information about me, and I need for it to stop. If you and Mother could cease communication with Elena for the time being, I'd appreciate it. I've already cautioned Elliot and Mia."

Elliot and Mia never had much use for Elena, and while they were surprised by my request for non-communication, they each said they'd be happy to never speak to her again. It makes me wonder if she has ever preyed upon either of them. It's a conversation I must have.

"Elena is on several committees with your mother, and she's also helping with the Coping Together gala, which is just around the corner. Avoiding her could be a difficult proposition."

"Dad, please. I absolutely do not want Elena around my family. She's duplicitous and manipulative, and those are her good qualities."

"Whatever you say, son. There's more to this story, isn't there?"

"Yes, and after things settle down, I'll reveal everything. There's something else I need from you and Mother. While I'm gone to Taiwan, do you mind checking in on Anastasia? She'll be in Seattle, all alone. Katherine will be in Barbados with Elliot, remember?"

Dad beams at me.

"Of course. It will be our pleasure to watch over your girl."

"Thanks, Dad."

I impulsively lean into my Dad, and press my forehead down onto his shoulder. I hear his husky intake of breath, and feel his hands on my biceps.

"Anything, son. For you, anything."

 **Wednesday, May 25, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

Kate and I are pretty much packed for our move to Seattle. Today is my last day at Clayton's, tonight I will see Christian, and tomorrow is commencement.

Paul Clayton is back in town, having recently graduated from Princeton with a degree in economics. He has a great deal to be proud of, having matriculated Princeton on a football scholarship. In the fall he'll pursue his MBA at Wharton. Paul is a handsome, well-built jock, and he also has academic chops. He's fun and easy to talk to, but I've never been romantically attracted to him.

Just before noon, Mr. and Mrs. Clayton, Paul, Sid, and Mrs. Zinn drag me back to the break room. I see pizza, soda, cake, and balloons.

"For four years, you have faithfully served Clayton's. You've been an exemplary employee, Ana, and you'll be sorely missed by us and by our customers. We send you forth with best wishes for a happy and prosperous new life in Seattle." Mr. Clayton hands me an envelope and shakes my hand. Mrs. Clayton hugs me, and tells me how much she'll miss me.

"Oh, Ana, promise you'll come back and visit." Mrs. Zinn hands me a wrapped package.

Sid hugs me shyly and shoves a small box of chocolates at me. "I remembered how much you like dark chocolate."

I am overcome with tears.

"Thank you all so much. I'll never forget any of you, and I'll always remember my special time here."

Paul hands me a Kleenex.

"Could I finally get a hug, Ana?"

I nod, and fold into his strapping frame.

"Excuse me, are you open for business?" I hear the deep timbre of a familiar voice.

It's Christian. He's here, and he's none too pleased to see Paul's arms around me.

I quickly break away from Paul, and instinctively take steps toward Christian.

Mr. Clayton explains why the store has been unattended for the last couple of minutes.

"Yes, we're open. It's Ana's last day, and we just wanted to give her a proper send-off. How can we help you?"

"Miss Steele knows what I need. I was hoping she could help me." Christian bores into me with laser like focus. "Anastasia, are you too busy?"

"Of course not. Christian, I'd like you to meet my employers, Mr. and Mrs. Clayton. These are my co-workers, Sid, Paul, and Mrs. Zinn. This is my friend, Christian Grey."

"Christian Grey? You're THE Christian Grey. Wow. It's such a pleasure to meet you. I'm Paul Clayton." Paul sticks out his hand to Christian, and Christian reluctantly takes it.

Christian is clearly irritated, so I explain why Paul is acting like such a fanboy.

"Paul just graduated from Princeton and will be attending Wharton in the fall."

"I dropped out of Harvard myself. Never had any need for business school or a degree, but whatever floats your boat. Anastasia?" Christian puts his hand out to me. I move forward to take it, but Paul grabs my elbow and pulls me back.

"Don't you want to stay here and enjoy your lunch, open your gifts? I'll help Mr. Grey."

Paul is attempting to get face time with Christian.

"Paul, is it?"

Paul nods at Christian.

"Anastasia is the only reason I came into this store. If she isn't available to assist me, then I must take my business elsewhere."

"Of course, Mr. Grey." Mr. Clayton intervenes. "We'll leave you in Anastasia's capable hands."

Christian smirks, more than happy with Mr. Clayton's phrasing.

"Don't wait for me. Please go ahead and eat," I tell my co-workers.

I follow Christian into the store.

"What can I help you with, Mr. Grey?"

I smile, feeling flirtatious in the presence of his male magnificence. The afternoon sun streams in through the glass storefront, highlighting the strands of gold in his copper mane. His gray eyes shimmer, and he cocks his head to the side, eyeing me up and down.

"I've missed you. I want to talk to you."

"I've missed you, too. Are we still on for tonight?"

"Of course we're still on." Out of frustration, Christian pulls at his hair. "Who is Paul to you? Is he your boyfriend? Have there been developments I'm not aware of?"

"No. Paul is nothing but a co-worker and a friend. He asks me out from time to time, but I always tell him no."

Christian leads me behind the end cap, between the paint and wallpaper aisles. He grabs my shoulders and presses me up against a bathroom decorating display.

"You are mine, Anastasia. No one else takes you out. Only me. Not Paul. Not José. Not Ethan Kavanagh. Only me."

Christian grabs the back of my head with one hand and my ass with the other. He grinds into me, and assaults my mouth with his. Oh, dear God, his warm, strong body feels so good. And that tongue. That tongue owns me.

"Yes." I come up for air. "Only you. Yours."

"Mine!" He growls. "I'm going to date you, Anastasia. I'm going to date you so hard."

Christian's hands are all over me, and mine are all over him. I accidentally touch Christian's back, but he doesn't seem to notice. We kiss passionately for what must be a good solid minute, and slowly pull away from each other.

"Baby, I've been wanting to do that since I said goodbye to you at SEATAC."

"I've missed you, too."

I hear Paul and Mr. Clayton moving toward us, discussing a special order of metal roofing.

"Come over here. You need to look like you're shopping. Paul has a big mouth. He's a gossip, and he's the sort who would brag about knowing you. He'd enjoy telling about Christian Grey kissing a clerk in his brother's store."

I lead Christian over to plumbing supplies.

"Clogged toilet, Mr. Grey? We have three styles of plungers to choose from. If your toilet needs a flapper or ball-cock, we have those as well."

Christian joins me in laughter, and then stills, eyeing me lasciviously.

"I'll give you all the ball-cock you can handle, Miss Steele."

"Yes. I do recall how well you give it to me." I feel my face flush at the memory of Christian's impressive apparatus.

"I'm serious, Anastasia. I want to move forward with you. The two of us. Together. I want to be your boyfriend. I want you to be my girlfriend. We can go on dates. It will be a novel experience for both of us."

"What about the contract and the rules? The punishments?"

"No contract, no rules, no punishments. Only pleasure and fun."

"Christian." I lead him by the hand, and head outside. The sidewalk is empty. I see a black SUV with a man leaning against the door. I recognize him as Christian's personal security, but I can't remember his name. "Something's been bothering me."

"What?" Christian sounds worried.

"Do you think it's possible to develop feelings for me? You told me…you can't ever love me. Won't ever love me."

"Shit. I did say that, didn't I? Has that been holding you back?"

"Yes. I don't want to get more involved if there's no possibility for growth in our friendship."

"I was wrong about that. Baby, if I could ever love anyone, it would be you. You're the most lovable person on the planet. I don't want a submissive. I want you, exactly the way you are. Only you."

"Will you spank me?"

"Do you want me to spank you?"

"Yes, I enjoyed it very much. Very, very much, if you want to know the truth. It was fun and sexy. It was foreplay, not some punishment linked to refusing green beans or missing a workout session."

"It would be my great pleasure to spank you. And I'd like for you to eat your green beans and work out, but if you don't, I'll never punish you."

"If you can accept me the way I am, and not expect submission, I'd like very much to be your girlfriend. But I don't want you forcing yourself to be something you're not. Would you really want to take me out on a Friday night for bowling and chili dogs?"

"I'd be honored to take you out for bowling and chili dogs. You're everything I need and want, Anastasia Steele. My Ana."

No one has ever said my name so sweetly, with such reverence and affection.

"Yes, your Ana."

Christian pushes my chin up and kisses me lightly, tenderly.

"I've got to get back to work, boyfriend. I'll see you tonight."

"Laters, girlfriend."

We part reluctantly, eager for tonight's reunion.

 **Christian**

She looks back over her shoulder, gives me a beautiful smile and calls me boyfriend.

Could life get any better? This must be what happiness feels like.

"Take me back to the Heathman," I order Taylor. "I have some calls to make, and then I need to get ready for a night out with my girlfriend. Did you hear that, Taylor? I have a girlfriend."

Taylor's eyes widen in surprise, and he produces the biggest smile I've ever seen from him.

"Congratulations, sir. May I share the news with Gail?"

"Share it with the world. Anastasia Steele is mine."

XXXXXXX

It's almost nine. I've been on a call with Ros, and I'm late getting to Henry's Tavern. I can't find Anastasia or my siblings, and apparently have missed them. This bar was their first stop. Anastasia is driving Katherine's car, serving as designated driver for Mia, Elliot, Katherine, and Ethan. I'm not happy about this Ethan fucker coming along, but hopefully I can keep him, and that asshat, José, away from her.

I text Anastasia, and she tells me they have just arrived at Rogue Hall, on the Portland State campus. Taylor takes me to the next destination. I've never done this sort of thing before, and it's fun meeting up with Anastasia, Mia, and Elliot. I'm in such a great mood, that I almost look forward to seeing Katherine Kavanagh.

Taylor drops me off at the door of Rogue. After parking he'll return to take a seat in a corner. I look around and see my beautiful girlfriend seated at a large table with my siblings and several people I don't know. Anastasia sees me and waves excitedly. She points at an empty seat next to her.

When I reach her, I embrace her with all I'm worth. It feels so good to have her in my arms. I give her a chaste kiss on the lips, not wanting to embarrass her with too much PDA.

"You saved me a seat," I whisper.

"Well, of course I did. You're my boyfriend."

"And don't you forget it, my beautiful girlfriend."

"Ana, you've been holding out on us."

A dark-haired exotic beauty is openly ogling me. Shit, doesn't she have any respect for Ana?

"Christian, I want you to meet Becca. This is Marisol, Levi, Travis, and José." Anastasia goes around the table with introductions. "And last, but never least, is Ethan. This is my boyfriend, Christian."

I'm on top of the world! Anastasia has just introduced as her boyfriend.

"You guys are together, like officially? Oh. My. God." Mia is out of her seat, hugging Anastasia.

"Nice going, bro!" Elliot punches my bicep and shakes my hand. "You finally sealed the deal."

"I have to take a pic of you two and text Mom!" Mia kisses my cheek, and pushes me closer to Anastasia for the photo.

I see Becca and that Levi clown are taking photos as well. What the fuck! They haven't signed NDAs and I have no control or authority over any of these people. This is the kind of shit that stresses me out.

Katherine and her brother take turns hugging Anastasia. Katherine kisses my cheek and Ethan Kavanagh shakes my hand.

"It's great to meet you, Christian. I'm happy for both of you. Ana's my other sister, so look after her. She deserves the best."

My opinion of Ethan Kavanagh has improved greatly. He seems completely sincere in his brotherly concern for Anastasia.

"I intend to give Anastasia the world. I'll take care of her."

"I believe you will. Welcome to the family."

His words make me feel immeasurably better, and I feel I can relax around him. On the other hand, that José fucker is giving me the stink eye. I can feel him watching me, and when I turn toward him, he looks away.

I order a round of drinks for the table, and by the time we're served, it's after ten. The bar is getting crowded. Anastasia takes off her denim jacket and fans herself.

"I'm going to the ladies' room. Back in a minute."

"You aren't going by yourself. I'll escort you."

"You're a tad overprotective, Mr. Grey."

"I'm your boyfriend. You'll just have to live with it."

Hand in hand, we walk to the restrooms in the back. Thankfully, there's no line.

When Anastasia exits, she appears pale and wan.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"I think I need to go home and get in bed. I'm just tired. Everything's catching up with me."

"Taylor and I will take you home."

"I'm the designated driver. How will the others get home?"

"How about we take the SUV and Taylor can drive the others home in Katherine's car?"

"Okay. Let's square that with Kate."

We no sooner get back to the table, when Anastasia passes out in my arms.

Katherine jumps up in alarm.

"I'm taking Anastasia home. Or perhaps the Heathman would be best. It's closer."

"Yes, take her. Text and let me know where you end up." Katherine gathers up Anastasia's things.

"Do you want me to assign Taylor to drive you all home? He can drive your car, then take a cab home. I've only had one beer, and I was going to take my SUV."

"Okay. Just take good care of her." While I hold Anastasia, Katherine puts the jacket on her, then places the small cross body bag over Anastasia's head.

Anastasia comes to, murmuring, "I'm so tired. It's hot in here."

"You fainted. I'm taking you home, baby." I scoop her into my arms, and she puts her hands around my neck. Taylor accompanies us, ensuring we make it safely into the car.

"Where to, Anastasia? I want to take you to my suite at the Heathman, but where do you want to go?"

"Could you take me back to my apartment, so I can get my things for tomorrow? Then I can stay with you at the Heathman. Does that work?"

I'm ecstatic.

"That works perfectly. You make me very happy, Anastasia Steele. Now if you can tell me how to get to your place."

Anastasia gives me directions to her place in Vancouver, then tells me she heard back from Seattle Independent Publishing.

"Elizabeth Morgan, the personnel director, said they really like me, but had to let an editor go, so now there's no place for me. She did offer some part-time work, which I accepted, reading through their submission backlog. I can do it at home, and gain experience for a full-time publishing job."

"Will that be enough money to sustain you? I'd like to help you out."

"No way! I'll be fine. Papa K has offered the morning job at KKAV, so I'll figure out a way to make them both work. I'm pretty good at managing my time."

"When do you start work?"

"Elizabeth is sending manuscripts right away, so that will start immediately. The news job begins as soon as I return from Savannah. I'm leaving Friday night and I'll be back in Seattle on Tuesday, the 31st. I'll start work at KKAV the next day. I'm excited to learn something new."

The dates of Anastasia's return and new job coincide with the Esclava/Elena events. Those days are going to be crazy for both of us.

"Kavanagh and SIP are fortunate to have you. You'll be very successful, I'm sure. I don't want you spreading yourself too thin. Remember in Montana, when I said I want all your attention? I meant that. I know these jobs are important to you, but we need time together."

"Christian, you are very important to me. I'll always have time for you."

I appreciate Anastasia's reassurance. I need her like the air I breathe.

From what I can see in the dark, Anastasia and Kate live in a nice area. The street is lined on both sides with identical brick duplexes. The apartment interior is serene, decorated in light, earthy tones. Most of their things are packed, and boxes are stacked high in the living area. I follow Anastasia to her room. Her double bed is covered with a quilt done in cream and blue. It's a very soothing environment.

"Have you brought boys in here before?"

Anastasia rolls her eyes at my question, and I resist the urge to chastise her for it.

"Yes. José, Ethan, and Elliot have all been in here. But—" She grabs my shoulders and pushes me onto the bed, sprawling on top of me. "Not like this."

Anastasia holds my face in her hands and kisses me deeply.

"And not like this." She grinds against me.

"And most certainly not like this." Anastasia reaches into my jeans, fishing for my dick, which is rock hard and uncomfortably wedged down my left pant leg.

"Do you want to have me right now in your bed?"

"Well, Mr. Grey, that would leave me with a very special memory of this place."

"Did you start taking the pill my mother prescribed?"

"Um, actually, no."

"And why not?"

There were condoms left over from Montana, and I brought them to Portland with me, but they are back at the hotel. I was really hoping not to need them. I had thought Anastasia would fill the prescription for birth control.

"Because I didn't think I'd ever get to be with you again, and if I can't have you, I don't want anyone else."

All this time, Anastasia has only wanted me.

She wants me, the same way I want her. The thought warms me, comforts me.

"Oh, baby, I'm yours. I brought the Montana condoms, but they're at the Heathman."

"You haven't used them? You haven't gone to clubs? Been with any of your special girls?" Anastasia's eyes are fixed downward on her bedspread.

"You're the only special girl I've ever known." I push her chin up with my forefinger, compelling her to look at me. "If you're referring to submissives, the answer is no. I've not been with any other woman since I met you. I have no desire for anyone other than you. I thought you knew that."

Anastasia gives a small shake of her head, and smiles shyly. She reaches up and grabs a tote bag that was hanging from a hook on the back of her door.

"I wasn't sure. Well, I'd better gather my things, so we can get to your room. I'll hurry."

My girl is as anxious as I am for sex. It's only been a bit over two weeks, but it feels like months since I've been inside Anastasia.

Anastasia races around, stuffing the tote with toiletries, lingerie, heels, and a dress. I see her cap and gown in a clear plastic bag.

"You'll need this."

"Yes! Thank you for helping me remember. I'm looking for my sweet sixteen pearls. Daddy gave them to me…here they are. I'm ready now."

We both take one last look around, ascertaining Anastasia has everything she needs. She quickly texts Katherine to let her know we'll be at the Heathman. We climb back into the SUV. Anastasia looks so fragile and delicate.

"How are you feeling?"

"Worn out. I think I just need a good night's sleep in your arms. I'm so grateful to have you next to me. I don't ever want to take you for granted."

Anastasia gently touches my thigh, running her fingers up and down, then rests her head against the window and falls asleep. She's so, so lovely. She snores softly, and every so often makes a tiny noise, as if she's about to speak in her sleep. After a twenty-minute car nap, she appears refreshed upon our arrival at the Heathman.

We step into an empty elevator. I take the tote bag from Anastasia, and drop it next to me. Being in this enclosed space heightens the charge between us, and I want our hands on each other.

I can't wait. I press myself against her, and cover her mouth with mine. I speak with my lips on hers.

"The things you do to me."

I'm afraid I'll get carried away and take her in this elevator. Anastasia returns my kiss with such fervor, that I believe she'd allow me.

My feelings for Anastasia burst forth. It's a risk, and it may ruin the moment, but I feel a deep need to tell her exactly how I feel about her.

"I never thought such a thing was possible, but I'm in love with you. I am utterly and completely devoted to you. You are everything to me."

I look down into Anastasia's face and see her love for me. She doesn't need to say the words, but she does.

"With every fiber of my being, I love you, too. Oh, Christian, I believe I've loved you since the instant our hands first touched."


	15. Jacket So Blue

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 15**

 **Jacket So Blue**

 **Thursday, May 26, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

He loves me!

He loves me, the same way I love him!

"Anastasia, as much as I'd like to, it's probably not a good idea for me to fuck you in this elevator."

The crackle of carnal energy snaps between us. Christian's eyes are narrow and dark, his voice is husky with need.

He scoops up my tote with a jerk. The sure, strong grip of his hand pulls me along. We can't get to his bed fast enough.

We step into his dark room, and not bothering with lights, we disrobe each other. We are giddy, fumbling and stumbling in the dark, kissing and feeling our way as we strip down to our nakedness.

My nipples are hard and I'm covered with gooseflesh. There's a chill in the room from the overly efficient air conditioning, and I seek the warmth and shelter of Christian's hard body.

Holding me close, he reaches over and flicks on a lamp. It's then that I realize we're not in just any room. We are in a large, beautifully appointed suite. I expected his room would be nicer than a Motel 6, but this is grander than anything I've ever seen.

"Nice digs," I whisper. "Where's your bed?"

We step back from one other, each of us in wonder and awe. The way this man looks at me…I feel absolutely beautiful.

Christian, in all his naked glory, places his hands firmly on each of my butt cheeks, and pulls me up by my bottom. My legs wrap around his waist, and my arms find his neck. He nibbles my ear as he carries me to his bed. Gently easing me down onto the mattress, he kisses me tenderly, and strolls over to turn on a bathroom light. The light illuminates his naked male form, and the sight of his silhouette makes my heart flutter with anticipation.

"I love you, Anastasia, and tonight I plan to show you just how much."

I am overcome by a sense of urgency, and the intensity of Christian's gaze only heightens my desire. I want him to take me fast and hard, but his needs and intentions are different.

With his hands and mouth, Christian slowly lavishes attention on every inch of my body. He says very little. He doesn't need words to tell me I am desirous. His smoldering gaze speaks for him.

He said he didn't know how, but Christian is making love to me.

"May I?" I ask, as Christian rips open the condom wrapper.

He hands me the wrapper, but before I take out the condom, I slide down the sheet and take his erection into my mouth. With his talented tongue, Christian has already given me two orgasms, but he hasn't gotten off at all. I need to remedy the situation.

"No, Anastasia, this is about you. I want to worship you, and enjoy your pleasure. This is all about you. Put the condom on," he commands. "I need to be inside my woman."

Christian enters me slowly, gently. I am more than ready for him. He is in control, tantalizing me with long, slow strokes, ever so gradually building speed, until he has me at the tipping point. His breathing escalates and a growl escapes his lips.

Shadows ripple across his broad sculpted shoulders, and I am helpless in the presence of his beauty.

Over the edge I go, stiffening, squeezing, pulsing around my man. He's right there with me, calling my name, finding his release inside me.

We hold each other tightly, moist from our exertion.

I'm sated, content, but out of nowhere, I feel myself overtaken with emotion.

I begin to weep, unable to hold back the hot tears.

"Did I hurt you? My God, what's wrong?" Christian pushes himself up and searches my face.

"I'm just overwhelmed by feelings. My heart is bursting with love for you. Everything is so perfect. I don't want anything to change what we have in this moment."

"And I love you, Anastasia." He wipes my tears away with his thumbs, then kisses my nose. "You bring me great joy, something I never dared hope for."

Christian peppers my face with small kisses. His mouth moves down my neck, and the tickling sensations make me giggle like a school girl. The manly grit of his chin scrapes against my throat. This is Playful Christian, and I love seeing this side of him.

In the middle of my unladylike snickers, Christian does the most unexpected thing. Grabbing a boob in each hand, he buries his face between them, and quickly moves his face back and forth, blowing raspberries against my cleavage. Christian's sound effects are loud, exaggerated, and unceasing. I squirm against him, laughing, until I'm gasping for air.

"Stop! You big goofball! Stop!" I push against Christian, but he's too strong for me.

I reach for his face, and I can feel his smile. He bites down gently on my index finger.

"Another first for me. Actually two. The first time I've been called a goofball, and first time I've motorboated."

"What are you talking about? Even I've been on a motorboat."

"Apparently, you and I are the last two people on the planet to experience motorboating. It's what I just did to your tits. I've heard Elliot talk about it."

"Well? Did my goofball boyfriend enjoy it?"

"Very much. I feel like such a normal, regular guy. Yep, motorboating and playing with my girlfriend's beautiful boobs." Christian props himself up on one elbow, and leans in, his face next to mine. "Shit. I'm so fucking happy right now. When you said good-bye to me in Montana, I thought I'd never see you again, much less enjoy you in bed."

"It seems your gravitational pull is too strong. Here I am, throwing myself at you like a wanton hussy. I'm happy to know you missed me."

"You have no idea how much I missed you. When you scratched and marked my arms and ass cheeks, you left me with a gift. I had a reminder of you, a souvenir of the special way you make me feel. As the marks faded, I grieved. With each day, I feared I'd never have a second chance."

"Really? Because I went back to school tender, sore, overused. It was a delicious discomfort. When that reminder of you was gone, I was bereft. I've missed you so much."

"Oh, baby, to know you can love me. It's everything."

"I'm all in. You're it for me. Monogamy, fidelity, honesty…I'm pledging these things to you, but your intentions must be the same. If your love isn't true, I'm done. No second chances. I'm not that forgiving."

"Your admonishment to me about serial monogamy hasn't been forgotten. I'll probably let you down in other ways, but I will never cheat. Infidelity will never be our problem. There are other issues, however, and I think we should schedule a time to see Flynn. Next month sometime, soon after I return from Taiwan. Would that be okay?"

"Of course."

"Dear God, you are beautiful. May I use my girlfriend's lovely breasts as a pillow tonight?"

"Tonight and always."

"I love you. And your firm, pert, perfectly sized tits." He gives them a gentle squeeze.

"My tits love you back." I kiss my boyfriend goodnight. "Goofball."

XXXXXXX

Dawn's light seeps into the bedroom. I have to smile at Christian's hand on my right boob. He looks like a little boy, ginger locks all askew, lips parted in a slight smile.

Slipping away as quietly as I can, I tiptoe to the large bathroom. My bladder is full to the point of pain.

As I wash my hands, I spy Christian's leather dopp kit, which is unzipped. His shaving cream tube pokes through the opening. Proraso, imported from Italy.

I shake my head and silently laugh to myself over the differences between Christian and my dear dad. Ray Steele buys Barbasol from the Montesano WalMart, and has probably never seen shaving cream in anything other than a metal aerosol container.

The two most important men in my life will meet today. I need to give Daddy a heads up. None of us need any unwelcome surprises.

Naked, restless, and always horny in his presence, I want to jump Christian's bones. But right now he looks so peaceful, and I know he has trouble getting enough sleep.

Before climbing back into bed, I spy a blue suit, blue shirt, and blue tie hanging on the back of the closet door. I wonder who coordinates Christian's clothes. Though all three are the same hue, each is a different tone, with the suit being the darkest and the shirt the lightest. Suit, shirt, and tie all complement each other beautifully.

From what little I've learned about couture from Mama K and Kate, the workmanship on this suit is exquisite. The jacket has handmade buttonholes, and the lapels are hand rolled and pic-stitched. The horn buttons have been applied in a crow-foot stitching, something I've only seen once before, on one of Papa K's jackets.

This blue suit must be Christian's outfit for graduation. He has worn it recently, because I can easily detect his musky maleness. I breathe deeply. Like an adolescent who has just discovered glue, I huff his fragrance. It's so arousing.

I carefully remove the jacket from the hanger, and slip it on. I turn to the nearby full-length mirror. This shade of blue looks good on me. It will look even better on my hot-as-fuck boyfriend.

Christian stirs, and I tiptoe back to the bed. He rolls over, and I see his morning wood.

It's an invitation.

Should I suck or should I ride?

I choose the ride.

Christian is flat on his back like a starfish. It's now or never.

Trying my best not to jar the bed and wake him, I straddle his hips. I am lined up for what I think is the perfect entry.

I touch myself, checking for moisture the same way Christian always does. When I take my hand away, my fingers are covered in a stringy, stretchy, clear wetness. Yes, I'm more than ready. Not wanting to soil Christian's blue jacket, I awkwardly reach over and wipe my fingers on the edge of the top sheet.

Standing straight and proud, his ever-impressive penis is looking particularly majestic. Lowering myself slowly, Christian slides in easily. He emits a low grumble at being disturbed. It isn't until my third up-and-down stroke that his eyes fly open and meet mine.

"Sweet Jesus," he gasps, "that feels good. Yes, fuck me, baby."

I move up-and-down a few more times, and then remember. We're not using protection.

"Condom!" I whisper urgently.

Christian grabs one from the nightstand, and hands it to me.

"Shit, baby, there's nothing like skin on skin. I can't wait until you're on birth control."

I slip the condom over his length.

"Do you want me on top?"

"Yes. You on top."

This is only my fifth day of sex, but I've fallen in love with the sounds. There's a faint squish as Christian moves against my wet heat. The sheets rustle as Christian bends his leg. Our breathing moves in and out of sync, and small throaty whimpers escape our lips. This is us, how we connect.

"Yessss. That feels so good. And I'm loving the jacket. I like seeing you in my clothes."

"Then you'd have enjoyed seeing me, love-sick and lonely, parading around the apartment in your t-shirt and boxer briefs."

"Shit. I know that was hot."

Christian closes his eyes, and rolls his hips, reveling in our shared pleasure. A few strokes later, his eyes fly open and he raises up on his elbows.

"Dammit! Did Elliot see you like that?"

I don't understand what the issue is, because there was nothing for Elliot to see, but I answer him honestly.

"Yes. I was completely covered. What's the problem?"

Christian's eyes are blazing. Angry Christian? Perhaps I can distract him.

I speed up my movements.

"You are MINE!"

"There was nothing to see. Elliot teased me about it, saying I must have really enjoyed your dick, if I needed to steal a sample, and bring it home."

"Did you think about my dick when you were wearing my underwear?"

"I'm always thinking about your dick, underwear or not."

"Shit. I love you so much." Christian reaches for his phone. "Baby, is it okay, if I take some pictures of you in that jacket, while you fuck me? If you don't like them, I'll delete them."

"Sure." I trust Christian not to do something that could possibly hurt me.

Quickly he snaps a few photos, and throws the phone onto the floor. Before I can process what's happening, he flips me, and I'm now beneath him.

He pounds me hard, and I relish the sound of his balls slapping against me.

It's Dominant Christian.

"You've been naughty, Anastasia. Taking my underwear and parading around in front of Elliot. And now you've stolen my blue jacket. I'm going to take you from behind, and I'm going to spank you while I do it. Would you like that?"

"Yes." I bleat excitedly. "Yes, please."

"All fours, head down. Yes, like that. Spread your legs a little more. Brace yourself."

Christian slams into me, and resumes his rough fucking. He slaps first one cheek, and then the other.

"You're mine. You only wear my clothes for me, or when you are alone. Do you understand?"

Slap.

"Yes, sir."

Slap.

"To whom do you belong?"

Slap.

Shit. That strike felt even better than the others.

"You. Only you!"

Slap.

"Fuck, yes! You are mine!"

Slap.

"Oh, shit! Chrrrissss-chun!"

I try to hold back my release, but can't help myself. I detonate around Christian's cock.

Christian calls my name in return. He pushes against my cervix, and I feel him pulse as he lets go inside me.

We collapse. Christian is on my back, but he doesn't feel heavy. He's warm, like a blanket.

"I've rumpled your lovely blue jacket. What will you wear to graduation?"

"I'll proudly wear that jacket, wrinkles and all. I'll wear the jacket my girlfriend wore while she fucked me."

"In so many ways, my graduation is going to be far nicer than anyone else's. You, Dad, my friends, this jacket."

Christian rolls us over, so that I'm now on top. His well-defined pecs tease me; will he ever allow me to touch him? My head rests on his shoulders. Our hands are clasped. Heaven.

"I have something special planned for you, when you walk across the stage. Do you trust me?"

"Of course, but will it bring unnecessary attention my way? I prefer staying in the background."

"Baby, if you don't like public attention, you got mixed up with the wrong guy. Once we go public as a couple, you'll be front and center."

"Going public as a couple—exactly when does that happen?"

"Today, if you're ready for it. I'd like the world to know you're mine. I'm leaving for Taiwan tomorrow morning, and I don't want any interlopers."

Interlopers? He can't be serious. Nobody gives me a second glance. Well, I guess there's José, but he's been such a close friend. I hardly feel he could be considered an 'interloper.'

"I suppose there's no reason to put off being seen together, but I'm nervous about all the scrutiny."

"You're beautiful, inside and out. Don't be afraid."

Christian fluffs the pillows by pummeling them with his large fists. He pulls me up next to him, so we share one pillow. His long fingers play with the jacket buttons.

"Baby, cancel your Savannah trip. I understand you can't stay in Taiwan for the duration, but even if I get a few days with you, it will be something."

"I need to see my mother. It's been too long. Besides, you and I can't seem to stay out of bed. I would distract you from your work."

"True," Christian chuckles. "But even away from you, I'll be distracted. I'll be constantly checking out these pictures on my phone."

He opens up the photos and scrolls through them. My face isn't evident. The photos are of my cleavage peeking through the jacket, my hair curling against the lapel, his hand on my belly, my hand gripping the sheet. The photos are intimate, but there's nothing distasteful.

"I've ordered some lingerie, and I'm having it shipped to you. Will you put it on and take some pictures for me? Send them to me while I'm gone?"

"Of course. Similar to the ones you took of me in this jacket?"

"Yes."

Christian's phone rings, interrupting our moment. I check the bedside clock. It's 8:25.

He checks the number and name on the screen.

"Fuck! I need to take care of this."

I make moves to get up, but Christian pulls me back down on top of him.

"Grey."

I can hear the other voice. It's a female, but I can't make out everything she's saying.

"That car is practically new. Hold on. I'm putting you on speaker. I need my hands free."

Christian fiddles with his phone, places it on the nightstand, and pulls me closer, wrapping both arms around me.

"Go ahead. What exactly is your problem?"

"I don't like the sound system. And I've never liked the dashboard. The instrumentation isn't intuitive. You know how BMW over-engineers everything. And this car is white. I'd have preferred a black one."

Who is this mystery woman? She certainly feels free to make demands.

"That car cost almost a hundred grand, and you specifically requested a Beamer. Of course, it's over-engineered. It's got every goddamn bell and whistle a BMW can carry."

"Christian…I just really don't like the car. I'm fed up with it, and I'd like a replacement."

She's whining over a fancy car gifted to her by my boyfriend? What the hell is going on?

"You're asking for a new car? There's probably not five thousand miles on the one you've got."

Shit. Is this a past submissive? He told me he doesn't have one right now. I do trust him, but we really don't know each other.

I try to rise, but Christian's too strong. He holds me down, giving me a stern look.

"Yes, I'm requesting a new one. I know you want me safe and comfortable."

Apparently, he's told her that he cares for her.

"How would you feel about an Audi? I can have a black one delivered to you before lunch."

He obviously wants to please this woman.

"Oh, thank you, darling. I do appreciate it."

Darling! How dare this avaricious troll call my man by any term of endearment!

"I'll send Ryan over with Andrea. You can sign the Beamer over to me. Andrea is a notary, and will handle the title transfer. Ryan will drive it to Escala, then he and Andrea can return later in the morning to sign the Audi over to you. Will that work?"

"Yes, darling. Thank you. By the way, where are you?"

There she goes again, calling my man darling! Her voice is unctuous and nasal. It's worse than the proverbial nails on a chalkboard.

"I'm in Portland. With my gorgeous girlfriend. She's right here next to me. I had to put you on speaker, because I can't keep my hands off her."

Fingers run through my hair and gently down my arm, but the tender moment is interrupted by screeching.

"Christian! What the hell is wrong with you? You've gone mad—"

"Have a good day, Elena."

The greedy bitch has a name.

Christian throws his phone down with great force, and it bounces up off the mattress. He hugs me even tighter and commences laughing.

"Who is Elena? You better start talking, and soon."

I hope I don't sound as brittle as I feel.

"Oh, baby, that was Mrs. Robinson, and she needs to be careful what she asks for. Just a second. Let me text Taylor, so he can arrange for the transfer of cars."

Christian taps away at his phone. When he's finished, he sits up, rearranges the pillows and pulls me to him.

"Anastasia, I was afraid you'd be upset. That's why I put her on speaker. No secrets. I wanted you to hear for yourself what she's like."

"Not that it's really any of my business, but how many women do you support? It's like you have a harem, and I just don't know how to deal."

I'm agitated and surely my voice is shrill. For the most part, I'm able to compartmentalize Christian's past, but when it's tossed in my face, I don't handle it very well.

"Only one. I've been supporting 'Mrs. Robinson,' as you refer to her, for the past six years. Until very recently, I felt I owed her. She loaned me the money to start my business, and I believed I was the cause of her divorce. I no longer feel I owe her anything, and I have plans in motion to separate myself from her financially and socially. I want nothing to do with her."

"Then why are you gifting her a new car?"

"I'm not. I'm swapping out her loaded 2012 BMW 750i for my housekeeper's 2009 Audi A3. When Elena realizes she's been played, the bitch is going to throw a shit fit."

Christian begins laughing again, and his eyes dance with mischief and mirth.

"Will she seek retribution?"

"Probably. We must discuss a couple of things. You need a CPO, and soon."

"Me? Why?"

"I'm wealthy. Someone may try to kidnap you for ransom, or hurt you to get back at me for some business deal. There are lots of crazies out there."

I'm sure Christian is overstating things.

"What does having a CPO entail?"

"Someone would accompany you to and from your home, stay nearby whenever you go out, investigate places and situations before you enter, that sort of thing."

"Accompany me? They'd ride in my car with me?"

"Yes."

"I use driving time to clear my head, sing to the radio. I don't want anyone with me. And would they report back to you about my activities?"

"Yes."

"No!"

"No?"

"No. Absolutely not. I don't want anyone riding with me and I don't want anyone reporting back to you. You'll have to trust me. I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for a while now."

"Well, baby, that leads me to the other thing I want to discuss. Mrs. Robinson's full name is Elena Lincoln. She and I co-own a small chain of salons. Elena may try to cause trouble. After I officially kick her ass to the curb, I don't think she'll retreat quietly."

"You think she'd try to physically harm you or ruin your reputation?"

"Physical harm isn't really her style. I think it's more likely she'll try some other form of retribution. Maybe go after my family or you. Even though we've known each other for a short time, you know me better than anyone. I'm closer to you than I ever dreamed was possible. But Elena…she knows all about the contract and my past submissives, because she recruited them. She knows about the clubs. She may have taken revealing photos when I was her submissive."

"You think she might launch a smear campaign?"

"Perhaps."

"Is there any way to prevent it?"

"If she decides to make trouble, there's nothing to keep her from running her mouth."

"Money won't shut her up?"

"No. Someone like Elena will just keep coming back for more cash. I've already thrown a small fortune at her, money that could have gone to a worthwhile charity."

"I love you, Christian. Whatever happens, we'll get through it together."

"And I love you. Promise that if someone tries to tell you something about me, tries to turn you against me, you'll come to me right away. Promise you'll ask me about it, before you believe it to be true. I won't lie to you, baby. Ever."

"Nor will I ever lie to you. If nothing else, we should have trust and respect between us. I promise I'll hear you out before believing others, but you must promise me the same. You must trust me, the same way I trust you."

"I promise. Whatever happens, we'll get through it together. Thank you for taking on my burdens. I'm not the easiest man to love."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Mr. Grey. You have certain qualifications—"

My hand finds the short crisp curls that trail from his navel to his groin. I stroke his length. His talented tongue strokes mine, his kiss in perfect synchrony with my hand. How does he do it? He makes every moment so perfect.

We are interrupted by an insistent knock on the door.

"That must be breakfast. Are you hungry?"

"For you."

 **Christian**

"And I am always hungry for you. But we need food, if we plan to continue our physical pursuits."

I must keep my girl's energy up. She doesn't eat enough.

I pull on a pair of jeans, so I can answer the door. Anastasia buttons up the jacket. It's so long on her, it could be a mini-dress.

I open the door to two young women, who both stand slack-jawed, staring at my shirtless form.

 _It's just a face, ladies. And yes, I work out._

Anastasia peeks out from behind the bedroom door. When she sees two females, she steps out. She watches as the young women quickly set the table and arrange the food. As soon as they depart, Anastasia offers her observations.

"You have so many people in your life, Christian, waiting on you all day long."

"Yes, I've worked hard for that."

"I know you have. What drives you? Somehow, I don't believe you're motivated by money."

"You're right. Money is a nice benefit, and I enjoy the control and power it brings, but it doesn't drive me. I could cash out today, and live out my days in luxury. I'm driven by a need to solve problems. I've always enjoyed creating, building things, finding the most efficient solution."

"I see that. But there's more, something deeper that motivates you, something you keep hidden. There are things you haven't told me."

Shit. She wants to know about the days before I was adopted.

"Yes. There are things I haven't told you. I need to tell you about the time before I was a Grey."

Anastasia fiddles with her Twining's bag. Her weak tea is little more than expensive hot water. Not that I mind. It's just one of her little idiosyncrasies.

"Will you tell me?"

"Now? I think it will ruin our appetites."

"Whenever you feel most comfortable."

"Let's eat. There are other things I want to discuss. Remember when I told you I'm looking for a weekend place, where I can dock my boat?" Anastasia nods attentively as she bites into a croissant. "I'm hoping you can help me choose a house. I'd like your input. Would you mind?"

"I'd love to look at houses with you. Sounds like fun. I've never gone house hunting, or even apartment hunting. It will be a first for me."

Anastasia has never visited my Escala apartment. What would she make of it? I wonder about her aesthetic. Contemporary or traditional? Hell, she could be into steam punk for all I know.

I shudder at the sudden remembrance of a steam punk themed restaurant I visited with Elena. She had taken me there to meet a potential submissive. So many years wasted, filled with meaningless encounters. Elena, contracted submissives, faceless club fucks.

I gaze at Anastasia, my lovely miracle. So perfect, made just for me.

"I've given up the idea of a house on the sound. I've mulled it over, and I'd like to find a house on Lake Washington near my parents."

"Oh, no, please don't tell me you've changed your mind because of me."

"No, baby, Lake Washington makes more sense for my family. In a few years, Mother and Dad will be getting older, and I'd like to be nearby. All this therapy with Katherine has Elliot wanting to get married and have kids, and he plans to build a home in Bellevue, or nearby. I imagine Mia will one day want the same."

"Elliot wants to to get married? Oh, do you think he'll propose soon? I'm sure Kate would respond favorably. Please, Christian, tell me! What do you know?"

Anastasia is bouncing with joy, and her voice has gained an octave. Her exuberant reaction is reminiscent of Mia.

"I don't know much. El said they haven't had sex yet. They're waiting until Barbados. The therapy with Flynn has been going well. El has individual therapy, and then Kate joins him via Skype for couple's therapy. Flynn gives them homework assignments designed to promote intimacy, and teach them how to communicate."

"Wow. They do appear quite smitten with each other, but truthfully I've been working a lot, and I'm a bit out of touch. Kate just tells me how happy Elliot makes her. So what did Elliot say?"

"Nothing much. Just that he wants to settle down, have kids. El thinks Katherine is the one for him."

"So you think Elliot might propose soon?"

I've never seen this side of my girl. She's so gleeful at the prospect of Elliot proposing to Katherine.

"You're jumping way ahead of things. El never mentioned the specifics of a proposal."

"Oh." The disappointment is evident in her voice.

I need to be honest with her, so her expectations aren't too high.

"You're so excited about the prospect of Katherine getting married. It makes me wonder. Are you hoping to be married one day?"

"Sure, I want children, and I don't plan to raise them by myself, so naturally I'd like to be married one day."

"I love you, Anastasia."

"I know. And I love you." Anastasia nods her head in understanding.

"You're okay with what we have now?"

"Sure," she shrugs. "I'm only twenty-one. You and I have only known each other for fifteen minutes. I'm not ready for any big life changes."

She seems content for now, but if I can't give her the white picket fence, one day Anastasia will leave me. Another hurdle. This relationship shit is so fucking difficult.

"Katherine is only a few months older. What makes you think she'd be receptive to marrying in the near future?"

"Kate has done a lot more living than I have. She's been through some things. Oh, Bug and Elliot will make the most gorgeous babies. I can't wait to become an aunt!"

"Getting a bit ahead of things, aren't you? Unlike you, I have no special desire to become an uncle."

"I'd love to become Auntie Ana. I'm not one for babies, but I love toddlers and older kids."

"I thought all women loved babies."

"Not me." Anastasia wrinkles her adorable nose. "Infants intimidate me."

Once again Anastasia says the unexpected. Her admission makes me laugh out loud.

"How could you possibly be intimidated by an infant?"

"They can't tell you what they need. They cry all the time, and who knows what all that crying means. I can't distinguish a hungry cry, from a dirty diaper cry, from a tired cry. Babies are scary little creatures."

I recall a brief discussion in Montana. Anastasia admitted to a desire for multiple children. Somehow I believe she'll figure out how to care for babies. She'll sort out those cries and quickly dispatch remedies. She'll be the best kind of parent.

"You'll make a wonderful mother."

I wish my birth mother had been like Anastasia. I was blessed with Grace as my adoptive mother, but sometimes I think she arrived too late on the scene.

"Thanks. Maybe after I turn thirty."

"Perhaps I should tell you…Ros, my second, and her partner, Gwen, asked me to be a sperm donor. They want children. Gwen is going to carry them."

"Oh." Ana's face falls. "Is Gwen pregnant yet?"

"I don't know, but if she is, I'm not the biological father."

Anastasia lets out a heavy sigh. Relief?

"I initially agreed, but had second thoughts. I don't like the idea of a little person sharing my DNA, even if I don't have the responsibility of raising it. I've considered getting a vasectomy, but I keep putting it off."

"I see. You've had sex with lots of women, perhaps you have children out there you don't know about."

"Not likely. All the women were on birth control, under the care of my personal physician. My security guys track former submissives, and none have given birth within a year of splitting with me. Women in the club scene have a medical affidavit stating that they are disease free and on birth control, and condoms are standard practice in clubs."

Anastasia tucks into her eggs and we finish our breakfast in silence. I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. Is she thinking about all the women I've fucked, or Elliot proposing to Kate?

I wish I understood her better. In truth we really don't know each other very well. I can hear Flynn's voice _. If you want to know what she's thinking, Christian, just ask her._

"You're so quiet, baby. What are you thinking?"

"Silly things. Nothing important."

"Tell me."

"A woman must retain a bit of mystery."

"I want to read you like a book."

"Hey, isn't it your turn to spill the beans? Didn't you have something to tell me?"

"Yes."

I gulp down the last of the coffee, considering what to say.

"I won't judge you. Just toss it out there, and we'll deal with it."

Her hand reaches for mine. I take it, and lead her to the sofa. I pull her close. She turns my hands over and over in her own, stroking them, calming me in a way that only she can.

"Okay, here goes." I draw in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "My birth mother was a prostitute, a crack whore. Her pimp is the reason for my haphephobia. He used me as his ashtray. The scars on my chest and back are from his cigarettes."

Tears stream down Anastasia's beautiful face.

"Don't cry for me. Baby, please."

"Oh, Christian...the nightmares?"

"Yes, the night terrors are memories from that time."

"Was your mother abusive?"

"Neglectful more than anything. I've never told anyone this, but she never called me by my name. She called me 'Maggot.' Sometimes I wonder if Christian is my real name…From what my dad was able to find out, it's not clear whether she overdosed accidentally, or if it was suicide. She was so cold. I put my blanket over her, but she was ice cold. I remember being hungry. Starving. The police came four days later."

"Was the pimp your birth father?"

"Dad looked into it, and he says no. My birth father was probably a dealer or a john."

"My God, you went through so much, and you were little more than a baby," she sobs.

"Shhh, it's okay. You're here with me now. If that's what I had to go through to get here—"

"Dr. Flynn knows about your mother?"

"Yes."

"You said you've never told anyone about your mother not using your name, calling you 'Maggot.' You aren't sure what your real name is? You haven't told Flynn about this?"

"No."

"He needs to know. It's important."

"It's stupid and shameful."

"Only on her part. Do you have any happy memories of her?"

"She baked a chocolate cake for my fourth birthday. She sang to me."

"That's a sweet memory. She really did love you, despite anything her addiction may have prompted her to do. What do you remember about her?"

"She was called Ella, and she had long, brown hair. I used to brush it for her."

I chase away memories of the beatings, arguments, and sex acts, things I heard through the closet door.

"Promise you'll tell Flynn about the way your mother addressed you."

"It's not that important."

"I hate the thought of her verbally abusing you. Drug addiction, prostitution...I'm sorry, Christian."

"Let's not talk about this anymore."

I reach beneath the jacket, and let Anastasia know what I need. She responds immediately, placing her mouth on mine. One hand finds my hair, and the other, my burgeoning flesh.

Our make out session is interrupted by her phone.

"Shit," I grumble. "Fucking phone."

Anastasia ignores it, and the ringing stops. Not thirty seconds pass, and her damned phone rings again. I reach for it.

"The screen says 'Dad.' Do you need to take this call?"

 **Anastasia**

It's Daddy calling. I haven't seen him in a month, and I'm looking forward to introducing him to Christian.

"Yes. Sorry, but I need to tell him about you."

"I'll give you privacy."

"No. Please stay." Christian nods, and pulls me into his lap.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Hey, Sweetie. I'm stopped for gas on my way to pick up your Uncle José. What time should we get you? You never got back to me."

"Well, there's something I need to tell you."

"Sounds ominous. What's going on?"

"I already have my ride to graduation all lined up. Do you remember my friend, Christian? From Montana?"

"Yep, the guy who's not your boyfriend."

"He is now."

"Huh?"

"My boyfriend. Christian is my boyfriend now."

"When did this happen?"

"Yesterday."

"I see."

"He's my ride to graduation."

"He'll be at graduation? How'd you get a ticket on such short notice?"

"Christian is the commencement speaker, so he doesn't need a ticket."

"Isn't Katie the speaker?"

"She's the student speaker. Christian was invited to deliver the commencement address. He's also receiving an honorary doctorate."

"Why?"

"Christian is kind of a big deal."

"How?"

"He's a self-made man. Created a huge business. He invests in new technologies, alternative energies, agricultural research. He's also a major benefactor to the university."

"Didn't know you're seeing an older fella. Thought he was the same age as your other friends."

"Twenty-seven, so not too much older."

"Oh. That sounds alright. Are you serious about him?"

"Yes. I love him."

There's nothing on the other end, and I can't imagine what Dad thinks about my declaration.

"Dad?"

"Does he return your feelings?"

"Yes."

"I always knew I'd have to share you one day, but this is rather sudden. For the first time, you've shocked your old man."

"Are you okay with this?"

"Sure. It'll just take getting used to. It's probably time you have a boyfriend. Tell him I'll kick his ass if he hurts you."

"You can tell him yourself. You'll meet him at dinner. Text me when you get to the auditorium. Before I line up for the ceremony, I'll try to find you."

"Okay. Love you, Annie."

"Love you, too."

As I end the call, I turn, and nuzzle into Christian's neck.

"Guess you heard all that? Dad said I shocked him for the first time ever."

"If your Dad is shocked over a boyfriend, you truly must have been living a monastic life."

"Told you I was a wallflower."

"I have a confession."

I playfully slap Christian's thigh.

"Lord, please don't tell me there are more women."

"No, it's just that I'm extremely nervous about meeting your father. What should I say?"

"You really are nervous! How sweet is that? Oh, I do love you so!"

"If the greatest man who ever lived doesn't approve, what am I to do? Our relationship could be over before it ever really gets started."

"Dad loves to talk about fishing, European soccer, the Mariners, Seahawks. Just be yourself. He's very easy to get along with—you'll see."

"I have some things for you."

Christian reaches into a drawer and pulls out a red Cartier gift bag, and two rectangular shapes, which appear to have been wrapped by a child. He hands me the red bag first.

"For your graduation."

"The luggage is my graduation gift. I'm putting it to good use on my trip to Savannah."

"Open this, Anastasia. Accept what's inside. Make me happy."

I reach into the bag and find a white envelope and a box wrapped in heavy white paper.

Christian looks so young, so eager to please, and so happy with himself.

I carefully open the card.

 **Mine.**

 **And don't you forget it.**

 **Christian**

 **x**

"Yes, yours. And how could I ever forget? I adore you."

The box is tied with a red Cartier ribbon and sealed at each end with the wax Cartier imprint. I've never seen anything like this. It's almost too pretty to unwrap.

Christian grows impatient, and with affection and good humor he prods me.

"For the love of God, woman, do you need help? Rip into it!"

I tear into the paper and find a red leather box. Slowly I open it, and inside is a yellow gold bracelet and a gold screwdriver. The bracelet is set with diamonds. It's gorgeous, and I'm stunned.

"It's a 'Love' bracelet. The screwdriver allows me to lock the bracelet in place, never to be removed. Do you like it?"

"I love it, Christian. Thank you."

"Let's put it on."

Christian loosens two screws, and the bracelet comes apart, two halves of an ellipse. Like a puzzle, he fits the two pieces around my left wrist, and tightens the screw mechanism.

"It's sized perfectly. It's never coming off." Christian kisses the inside of my wrist, and then nuzzles my face, running his nose along mine.

"Is it okay to shower with it? What if a diamond falls out?"

"Then we'll replace it. Don't ever take it off. You are mine."

"And conversely, does this mean you are mine?"

"Yes, baby. My heart is yours. My dick is yours. I belong only to you, and you belong only to me."

"I love the bracelet and what it means. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now here are the other two gifts, though these are utilitarian items."

"Did you wrap these yourself?"

"Yes. How could you tell?"

Oh, my man is the cutest thing ever.

"Just a guess. You did a really good job."

"Thanks. Another first. I've never wrapped a gift before."

The smaller of the two boxes contains the latest, greatest Blackberry with a touch screen. It's a huge upgrade from my flip phone.

"The Blackberry isn't the sexiest phone, but it offers the best security. Yours is paid for through GEH, so don't worry about a monthly bill. Open the other one."

It's a MacBook. He remembered that my old laptop died a couple of weeks before I met him.

"Thank you, Christian. These are very thoughtful gifts."

"You're welcome. And thank you for accepting them so graciously. With us being apart for the next couple of weeks, it's important that we're able to stay in touch. I've assigned you a GEH account, and I'd like for you to use that, if you need to e-mail me."

A card is loosely taped to the top of the box.

 **E-mail: Anastasia dot Steele at GEH dot com**

 **Password: ChristianLovesAna**

"I know you already have e-mail, but this is more secure. You can change the password, if you like."

"Now why would I ever change that password? By the way, Ana loves Christian." I reach over and give him a soft peck on the lips.

"I'd like to Skype each day, if we can figure out a time that's mutually agreeable."

"Of course. I've come to depend on our daily phone dates."

Christian rises, and pulls me to him.

"Stand by the window. It will soon be time to get dressed and leave for campus. I need more images of you in the jacket."

He guides me to a plush upholstered chair, and pushes the draperies aside. Light pours in through the sheers.

"Bend over, Anastasia." He pushes up the jacket hem, and rubs my rear end. "Yes, I like that. Your cheeks, plump and round, peeking out from under the jacket."

Christian is engrossed in his task, moving around my body, snapping pictures. Suddenly, he reaches out and smacks my bottom.

"Ouch! Warn me next time."

"Sorry, baby, I need a shot of your ass, pink with my hand print. These pictures, and whatever you can send me, will have to hold me for at least two weeks. I can't get enough of you."

Eventually satisfied with the photos, he stands me up. As he drags the jacket off my shoulders, I study his strong hands, the muscles and heavy veins of his forearms. _People_ magazine got one thing right; my man truly is the sexiest alive.

"We only have one condom left, and I plan to take you during your graduation dinner. Oh, Anastasia, your face is a wonder. Every little thought of yours flashes across your sweet visage."

"I'm sure my eyes did a get bit wide, at the suggestion we might have sex at the dinner table."

"I promise to find a private spot, though it will have to be quick. I burned for you when we were apart, and the prospect of being away from you again will have me wanting you this evening. Let's take a shower and see what we can accomplish."

He leads me into the warm water, the spray at once both invigorating and relaxing. We take turns washing each other's hair. Christian crouches down to allow me access, and he sighs in pleasure at the gentle pressure of my fingers. Not one for washcloths, Christian soaps his hands with body wash and cleans every inch of me, stopping along the way to give certain areas special attention.

He washes the upper part of his own body, and I wistfully wonder if I'll ever be allowed access. I put my hands out, and he squirts body wash into them. I start on his feet and his powerful calves, working my way up the curves of his thighs to his impressive erection.

Christian leans back against the shower wall, watching as I take him in and out of my mouth, each time a bit deeper. His testicles are tight against his body, which I've recently divined means he is close. He pants heavily and then emits several half-grunt, half-groan, choking sounds. This is enchantment, and I'll never tire of it.

Christian blows my hair dry and curls the ends. I apply shaving cream to his stubble, and watch as he shaves. We groom and dress alongside each other, still a bit self-conscious in each other's presence. We did a bit of this in Montana, but our newly minted love makes everything feel a bit different, almost festive, jubilant. I help him with his tie. We find a handheld fabric steamer in the closet, and I do my best to remove the wrinkles from his jacket.

"Honey, you do know this jacket smells like me. Actually like the two of us. It smells like sex. It's not too strong, I suppose, but it's definitely there."

"Shit. Really, baby? I need a whiff." Christian slowly inhales. "Damn that smells great. It's piquant, tangy, just like you. I'm never sending this to the cleaners."

"You're determined to wear the jacket, aren't you?"

"Hell, yes! You've marked that jacket, and I want everyone to know I'm yours."

There is a less pungent suit option hanging in the closet, but Christian has made his choice.

We are each in an ebullient mood, anticipating the graduation and dinner. Today is our coming out party.

Christian pulls me in front of the full-length mirror. His magnetic grays meet my eager blues.

"You're beautiful. Let's take a selfie, and send it to my mother. She'll have a fit over it. She likes to remind me how well you and I complement one another, two halves of a whole."

I love that Christian is a bit of a mama's boy.

"You're so handsome, Christian. I'm reminded of lines from a Robert Burns poem. ' _My Jockey is a bonny lad…an' just the lad for me.'_ You are a vision in that blue suit, and you are mine. _"_

"Did Jockey love his lass?"

"It's a cautionary tale. He had his way with her and cast her aside."

"I will always have my way with you, Anastasia, but we are meant to be together." Christian takes my hand. "Come. The two of us have places to go."


	16. Commencement

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 16**

 **Commencement**

 **Thursday, May 26, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

"You are stunning. That dress suits you. Mmmm." Christian strokes my neck, my shoulder, my arm, enjoying the access.

"You're sure it's okay for me to be here? I'm just an ordinary graduate. This is for faculty and special guests."

"I paid for this spread, so I'm the host. You're my date. Katherine will be here." He knows seeing my bestie will make me happy. "It feels right for you to be here, for us to share this."

With a mischievous glimmer in his grays, Christian surveys the hallway. He pulls me into an amorous embrace and kisses me deeply. We're alone, save Taylor, who stands at the end of the corridor with his head discreetly turned.

"That'll have to hold me for a while."

As we enter the library, I see workers setting up a buffet lunch. The tables where I've studied for the past four years are decorated in university colors of black, red, and white.

Christian's arm is around my shoulder, my arm around his waist. Faculty are gathered in small groups.

Kate entertains Dr. Cozza and Prof. Crane, their heads thrown back in laughter at one of Kate's quips.

Dr. Laverne Burkhalter, the English department chair, wags a censorious finger at Professor Todd Burwell, or "Hot Toddy," as female students call him. He's on the south side of thirty, single, tall, dark, and handsome. There are rumors he's bedded some of his students, but he's always been professional and polite to me.

Christian leads me to greet Chancellor Blomquist and President Ling.

"Mr. Grey, your participation in today's festivities is much appreciated. This luncheon is a treat. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure. Please allow me to introduce my girlfriend, Anastasia Steele. Anastasia, I'd like you to meet Chancellor Blomquist and President Ling."

"It's nice to meet you." We exchange handshakes. We've met before, but there's no reason they'd remember me.

President Ling looks from me to Christian, and back again, as if he's trying to solve a puzzle.

"Girlfriend? Have we met before, Anastasia?"

"Yes, sir, several times. Most recently at the English department end of year luncheon, where I received some awards."

"President Ling, Anastasia didn't just receive some awards. She swept every award for which she was eligible, as she has done each of her four years.'' Burwell joins us, and as my professor and advisor, I guess he has some bragging rights.

"You never told me that. I'm so proud of you." Christian beams with admiration.

"Todd Burwell, Ana's advisor." Hot Toddy extends his hand to Christian.

"Christian Grey, Ana's boyfriend."

Toddy's eyes go wide in surprise.

"You're a member of this year's graduating class?" The chancellor inquires, looking confused. "Did you two meet on campus?"

Does the chancellor think Christian trolled the campus for coeds?

"No," Christian explains, "Seattle. My brother introduced us."

This knowledge seems to allow the chancellor to relax a bit.

Some folks from the agricultural research center are making a beeline for Christian. I want to visit with Kate, and this is my opportunity to escape.

"Excuse me. It was nice chatting with you."

I squeeze Christian's hand and nod over toward Kate. Christian reluctantly lets me go.

Hot Toddy follows closely, speaking to me over my shoulder.

"Ana, it seems I haven't really known you. I figured you to be a cat spinster."

Burwell is crossing a line. I scowl at him.

"Nothing against cats, but I'm more of a dog person."

"I've always found you attractive, Ana. We should've become better acquainted." Burwell's voice is thick with sexual inference. "It's not too late. You've got my number. Now you've graduated, so feel free to call, day or night."

"Thanks, but my days and nights are already scheduled."

"Sure," Burwell sighs resignedly. "Good luck, Ana. It's been a pleasure. For the record, you're the best student I've ever had. Grey is a lucky man."

As Hot Toddy strolls back to the corner for another drink, I consider what just happened. Never once in four years had he shown any interest in "getting into my panties," as Christian calls it. Then I show up with Christian, and suddenly Burwell is interested.

I guess this is part of the Christian Grey Effect.

Men want what he has, even if it's not something they had previously considered. It's unsettling, if not downright creepy, to think men would find me attractive, only because I am with Christian. But I'm grateful to have experienced this, so I can recognize it when I encounter it.

Kate greets me with a big hug.

"Missed you at home this morning."

"We need to reconnect over a glass of wine. Tonight maybe?"

"Sure. Let's share a nightcap."

"I know people think I'm crashing this little luncheon, but Christian insisted I come."

"Relax, sweetie. You fit right in—and you're with Christian Grey. He can't stay away from you. It's sweet. Hey, what's up with Hot Toddy?"

"The ass hit on me. He saw me with Christian and suddenly found me attractive."

"He found you attractive, because you are. You've always been beautiful, but now you're glowing."

"I'm not a bit different than I was a week ago in Burwell's office."

"But you are different. Being with Christian has given you extra confidence. Christian's different around you, too. A better version of himself. You two are good for each other."

"I hope so. The man owns me."

Kate looks past me, nodding acknowledgement to someone. I feel Christian's ever present buzz, and know he's behind me.

"Katherine, nice to see you. Looks like we'll be sitting together at commencement."

"Did you get the information on where we're meeting for dinner?"

"Hotel Lucia? Sure. I don't plan on hanging around after commencement. Sawyer will escort Anastasia from the auditorium, and we'll travel straight to the restaurant. Anastasia, what did that Burwell fucker say to you?"

"I'll see you two later. I need to speak to the Colemans." Drs. Simon and Alma Coleman are nearby, but I know Kate has never cared for those two. She's just moving out of Christian's firing line.

"Nothing you should worry about. I've decided to accept the CPO, but not until I return from Savannah." Christian kisses my forehead in approval. "Burwell is the one who convinced me I need protection. He hit on me, all because I'm with you. Being with you seems to make people treat me differently."

"Son of a bitch! Where'd he go?"

"Please don't make anything of it. I only told you, so you'd understand about my CPO decision. If you start going whacko over every jerk who speaks to me, we're going to have problems."

"Whacko? First it was goofball, and now it's whacko? I need to punish you for such loose language."

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the broom closet."

"Broom closet?"

"Becca and Kate sometimes take boys into utility closets and fool around. I figured that's what you had planned for the condom this evening."

"Well, no, but if a broom closet kicks your switch, baby, we can do that."

"I've never had closet sex before, so—"

Christian cocks his head. His eyes gleam with humor.

"You better not have had closet sex," he whispers. "You're supposed to save all your closet sex for me."

"Yes, sir."

"Ana, what a nice surprise. Aren't you going to introduce your friend?" I search to my right, looking for the owner of the deep voice and find Simon Coleman and his wife, Alma. They're an openly bisexual married couple, and they are eye-fucking my man.

"Christian, I'd like you to meet two of my instructors, Alma and Simon Coleman. This is my boyfriend, Christian Grey."

I turn, and behind me are at least half dozen more faculty members wanting to meet my man. Christian described his life as a three-ring circus, and this is beginning to feel like one.

For my sake, I think, Christian is trying to be polite. But I can see the tension in his jaw, and I know he's supremely irritated.

The gaggle is a swoony, obsequious group. Even Dr. Cozza, my strident, ball-busting, post-feminist lit professor, is drooling over Christian.

"Ana, I'm so proud of you, not just for being a lovely person and good student, but for snagging such a luscious man." Dr. Burkhalter has dragged me aside. She gestures toward Christian. "Keep me posted on life in Seattle." I would've hoped she meant my career, but no, I'm sure she's hoping for updates on my love life.

Is this my new normal? Am I ready for this?

 **Christian**

Thank fuck. Anastasia has agreed to a CPO, though it took that dickwad Burwell to make her see the light. She doesn't want a CPO while she's in Georgia with her mother, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

I mean to keep her safe. To that end, I have assigned Sawyer and Reynolds to accompany her through the commencement ceremony. As the students cross the stage, they present a card with their name printed on it. One of the deans reads the card aloud, and the grad receives a blank rolled up piece of paper that looks like a diploma. The real diplomas are mailed out a couple of weeks after commencement. My guys will present cards with fake names, walk across the stage just like students, and none will be the wiser. Sawyer will move ahead of Ana, with Reynolds following behind. They'll escort her wherever she needs to go.

My phone has been blowing up, so as soon as Anastasia and I go our separate ways, I find a quiet spot and check my calls. Just as I thought, most of the calls are from Elena. Gail's old Audi has been delivered and I'm sure Elena is livid over the switch I've pulled.

My hands shake, as I am about to touch her name on the screen.

Timing is everything. My intention is to keep Elena off balance, while having a bit of fun in the process, but maybe I've gone too far. Perhaps this isn't the right time to antagonize her.

I turn off my phone and put it in my pocket. I'm fearful right now. I'm reverting back to fifteen, and I'm afraid of my punishment. A memory of Elena caning my genitals pops into my head.

Maybe I should just continue supporting her. It's not as if I can't afford it.

But if I can't make the break from Elena, I can't have Anastasia.

I recall my sessions with Flynn, and all the ugly truths I've recently confronted. I pull my phone out and find photos of Ana. Ana's hair spread across a pillow. Ana in my jacket. Ana's hand on my thigh.

I can do this. I can stand up to Elena.

My phone buzzes against my hip. _It's the bitch_.

I'm doing this for Ana.

My mouth is dry, and I'm trembling. Why can't I completely release Elena's power over me?

"Grey."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Talking to you. Isn't that a bit obvious?"

"Don't you dare jerk me around. An A3?"

"You didn't like your car and agreed to a black Audi."

"Ha-ha. Your little joke is over. Haul this heap out of my driveway and give me a proper vehicle. I can't be seen driving an A3."

"If it's good enough for a sub, then surely it's good enough for you."

"Listen to me, you little piece of shit." This is what Elena called me when I was her sub. She's in full Domme mode. "I made you, and I can take you out. Fuck with me, and I will fuck your life up beyond repair. Capiche?"

"Is that a threat, Elena? And how are you going to fuck up my life without fucking up your own?"

"I thought you fully understood what I'm capable of. I'll say it again, so you can process it. I made you, and I can take you out."

"You didn't make me. You didn't devise a business model and implement it. You didn't work eighteen hour days. You didn't create or sacrifice a thing. You just took your husband's money and placed it on a sure bet."

"I taught you control in all things. But now you're jeopardizing everything, waywardly chasing some cheap piece of ass."

"You sound old. Bitter. Jealous. Did I mention old?"

"Jealous and old? Hardly. At fifty, I'm still the best fuck you'll ever have. I remember how much you wanted it, begged for what I had."

"Yes, I remember that. I recollect being fifteen, so horny I'd have fucked a snake, if someone had held its head for me. Wait, come to think of it, I did fuck a snake."

"You nasty little son of a bitch. Fix this, or I'll fix you."

"Trade the A3 in on something more to your liking. I don't give two shits what you do. But you'd best be careful, Elena. I'm not a kid anymore."

I hang up, my hands still trembling.

Taylor looks at me with grave concern.

"Sir, it's time to put on the commencement robe and join the rest of your party. Are you okay?"

"Fine. I'll be fine." And I will be, as soon as I can get my arms around Anastasia again. "Do we have a tail on Mrs. Lincoln?"

"Yes, sir. 'Round the clock coverage. Her landline is tapped, and her electronic communications are being monitored. While she's preoccupied with the audits, we plan to do some things in her home…It's actually best that I not tell you. Just know we're taking care of things."

 **Grace**

Carrick and I knew Christian was attending the WSU-Vancouver commencement, but we had no idea he'd be the speaker, and receive an honorary degree. When Elliot learned about it from Kate, he shared the details, and we quickly reorganized our schedules to be here.

Eamon and Dana Kavanagh pulled strings and arranged tickets for Elliot, Mia, Carrick, and me. Eamon's parents are here, Agnes and Joseph Kavanagh. Kate's brother, Ethan, and Kate's friend, Becca, are also in attendance. We have also met up with Ana's father, Ray Steele, and his friend, José Rodriguez. Mr. Rodriguez's son, also named José, has been walking around taking photographs.

We are searching for our seats, when I hear a familiar voice.

"Dad! Wait up!"

It's Ana. She's lovely in a gray chiffon halter dress. She throws her arms around her father. He embraces her in return, and it's easy to see their strong parent/child bond. She's a daddy's girl, and right now, she only has eyes for Dad.

"I won't see you right after the ceremony. I'm supposed to go with Sawyer." Ana points to one of Christian's security men, who is holding a garment bag. "I'll meet up with you at the restaurant, okay?"

"Okay."

Mr. Steele accepts what she says. He seems puzzled about Sawyer, but doesn't ask questions. Ana senses his confusion and explains.

"Sawyer works for Christian, and he's assigned to help me. I'll explain later. I can't wait for you to meet Christian."

"I look forward to it. You look pretty, Annie. I'm so proud of you."

"I love you, too, Dad."

Ana turns to the side and notices our group for the first time.

"Oh, my goodness. It's so great to see all of you."

Ethan picks Ana up and twirls her around, and then Elliot takes a turn. Ana hugs each of us and greets us warmly.

"I'd better go put on my gown and find my place in line. See you at dinner."

I am seated between Dana and Carrick. On the other side of Carrick are Mia, Ethan, Elliot, and Becca. On the other side of Dana are Eamon, Eamon's parents, the elder José, and Ray.

"Where's Ana's mother?" I whisper to Dana.

"Georgia."

"She couldn't come?"

"Wouldn't is more like it. In my opinion, she's a very self-centered woman."

"How so?"

"Everything seems to be on her terms. Ana's birth father died the day after she was born, and Carla won't celebrate Ana's birthday on the actual date, because it dredges up bad memories. She made Ana celebrate a week before or a week after. Can you imagine?"

"How terribly sad."

"As soon as Ana was able, she started baking her own birthday cakes, and secretly celebrating with Ray."

"When is Ana's birthday?"

"September tenth."

I hope she and Christian will still be seeing each other then. I'd like to help make up for her lack of proper celebrations.

Dana's tidbits have given me more understanding of the bond between Christian and Ana. Neither have known their birth father. Each is motherless, but in different ways.

Christian watched his birth mother die, and while he loves me very much, no amount of love will take away the damage and pain of that loss. Ana has a mother, but she's never been fully present. If Ana lives with heartache, she hides it well.

The WSU Wind Symphony plays "Pomp and Circumstance," and the Class of 2011 files in. We finally spy Ana, and I take some photos.

Ana searches and finds us. It appears she's slipping off her shoes. There's a male on either side of her, helping Ana onto her chair. Can that be Sawyer and Reynolds? Yes, she has security. I wonder what that's about. The public isn't aware of Ana, so how can she be in danger?

Ana stands on her chair, tipping her head down, so Ray can see the words "FOR DAD" on top of her cap. Ana points at her eye, then makes a fist over her heart, and points at Ray, mouthing "I love you." Ray mouths it back to her, and it's obviously some kind of ritual between the two of them. It's a heartfelt moment, and I am left to wonder again at the woman who could ignore her child's college graduation.

President Ling gives a glowing introduction of Kate, outlining her many accomplishments. Kate's speech is well-received. She knows how to pull the audience in right away, telling her fellow grads they "are now officially hotter by one degree."

I got close to Kate on the Montana trip. She supported Elliot as he explained his therapy plan to us. Though they had just met, Elliot asked Kate to participate in intimacy exercises, and she readily agreed. The two have been regularly meeting with John Flynn via Skype.

During our Montana holiday, she took Carrick and me aside, and gave details of her arrest as a juvenile. Kate is an old soul, having been reeled in by a silver-tongued Svengali, and then left pregnant. Her arrest on heroin trafficking charges put an enormous strain on the entire Kavanagh clan, but they have weathered it well.

It turns out Carrick's firm handled Kate's defense, and while he personally didn't work on her case, he knew of it. He admitted to holding it against her, and also thinking Ana must be of poor character, since she was Kate's best friend. Kate's crimes were on his mind when he suggested Ana was a gold digger. I recall Carrick's accusatory words: _What if she is after his money? Maybe the Kavanagh girl has helped her target Christian._

At the time I wondered why Carrick would make such a seemingly baseless remark, but he was bound by professional ethics, and couldn't share what he knew of Kate's past.

Kate has recovered from the dark days of her past. She sparkles with energy and light. She and Elliot are each charismatic in their own way, similar in temperament, and quick witted. They are well-suited.

As much as opposites attract, it's been my observation that couples who endure are similar to one another. This bodes well for Kate and Elliot, and I hope they find a love match in one another.

At the conclusion of Kate's speech, I hear Elliot hiss, "Yesssss! That's my baby."

Kate receives a standing ovation from her fellow grads, and from us, her family and friends.

President Ling introduces Christian, who is decked out in elegant red and black regalia.

In contrast to Kate's playful speech, Christian's is weighty and resolute. He speaks of a determination "to develop viable and ecologically sustainable methods of farming" and "help eradicate hunger and poverty across the globe."

I look at my husband and see the pride he has at Christian's words. What if we hadn't come today? This moment is the culmination of years of hope, love, and prayer.

"I have known what it's like to be profoundly hungry. This is a very personal journey for me…"

Carrick's hand grasps mine. My heart lurches in sorrow and surprise. I had no idea. All this time, Christian has been carrying the memory of hunger. What else does he carry in his bundle of burdens? How well do I really know this child of mine?

The audience gives Christian's speech warm applause, and now it's time for Chancellor Blomquist and President Ling to award Christian's honorary Doctor of Science degree.

The chancellor enumerates Christian's accomplishments, which are so lengthy, it takes almost ten minutes.

As the ceremony unfolds, I think back to that tiny boy I met in the emergency room. He was skin and bones, shock and fright.

The most difficult aspect was Christian's incapacity for touch. Carrick and I wanted nothing more than to hold and cuddle him, but Christian couldn't bear it.

I took six months off to stay home with him. He couldn't speak, but those gray orbs conveyed deep understanding. Within a few weeks, his fingers followed the words as I read them from the page. If I asked Christian to find a specific word, he found it easily. Though he didn't speak, I realized he could read. We enrolled him in a Montessori kindergarten program, and he excelled academically. Though he had difficulty communicating and socializing with classmates, he bonded with his teacher.

It is mind-boggling that Christian could arise from such dire circumstances to become the world's twenty-fifth richest person. And it all happened so quickly.

President Ling lifts the sash over Christian's head and carefully drops it, allowing it to drape down his back. Once again, Christian receives another round of applause.

I hear women from the crowd yell, "I love you." Poor Christian, always getting attention for his looks from both women and men.

Christian's recent admission of heterosexuality and having "been with dozens of women" is quite a revelation. Ana seems to handle his past and all the attention he receives. If she can't, I see trouble ahead.

I smile at the memory of Mia teasing Christian over dinner this past Sunday.

"Who knew you were into pretty girls like Ana? I could have been fixing you up with my friends."

"Pretty? Anastasia isn't just pretty. She's the most beautiful woman on the planet. Anastasia's beauty is quiet, unassuming. She needs no adornment…No, Anastasia isn't just pretty. She's beautiful. None of your friends could ever hold a candle to Anastasia."

Carrick and I exchanged glances across the dinner table, in recognition of what has happened. Christian has fallen in love.

I watch him on the stage, and again my heart travels back to my tiny waif of a son, tormented by night terrors.

Christian had been so lost, we feared he couldn't ever be found. I think we kept him breathing, existing long enough for Ana to find him. She has found him and touched him in those tender places that had lain dormant all his twenty-seven years. It's truly nothing short of a miracle.

Carrick pats my hand, and pulls me from my wayward thoughts. It's time for recognition of the graduates. Christian is stationed at the end of the stage to receive and congratulate each grad. It's going to take a long time to reach the K's and then the S's.

There's a professional photographer and a videographer. Photos and DVDs will be for sale on the university website. I'll need multiple copies of today's events. I must order not just for us, but for my parents, and other relatives.

Oh, I mustn't forget copies for Elena. She's been such a good friend and mentor to Christian. Even through the pain of her divorce, she managed to look after him, offering him encouragement and a sympathetic ear.

Christian told Carrick about some problems with the salon, but I'm sure it's all a mistake. Elena is meticulous about everything, from her looks to her home décor, and I'm sure her accounting will prove to be in order.

Carrick asked me not to speak to Elena about Christian, and I'm doing my best to respect that request. Actually, I haven't had a recent opportunity to speak to Elena. She left a voice message telling me she'd have to miss the planning meetings for the Coping Together Gala.

"Katherine Agnes Kavanagh."

Finally, Kate walks across the stage. She has such presence. She shakes Christian's hand, and the two of them, practiced at this sort of thing, confidently turn to the cameras and smile.

As we wait Ana's turn, I ask Dana about her design studio. Most of her business is wedding related, and she relays cute stories about Kate and Ana modeling her designs for print ads and wedding shows. Apparently Ana is uncomfortable displaying cleavage, but Kate likes the exposure. Dana confides that she has wedding gowns already designed for each girl. Thinking of my sons with their beautiful girlfriends, I find myself catching a mild case of wedding fever.

Carrick nudges to let me know Anastasia will soon be on stage. We sit tall in anticipation.

"Anastasia Rose Steele."

Anastasia's pace quickens as she makes her way from President Ling to Christian. She puts out her hand, but Christian doesn't seem interested in a handshake. Ana's back is to the crowd, and they stand close, chatting. Christian swings Anastasia around to the side and in dramatic fashion, dips her low. She holds his biceps for balance. Christian smiles widely, bends, and kisses Ana firmly on the mouth.

Sweet Lord. Such a public display of affection from my undemonstrative son.

The crowd goes wild.

Christian stands Ana up, pulling her to him for a hug and another quick kiss. He slowly releases her, and they speak as she walks away to meet Sawyer at the foot of the stage. Reynolds quickly catches up to Ana.

During the closing remarks, school song and recessional, I'm still reeling at Christian's over the top, very public display.

 **Anastasia**

After Christian's Hollywood style kiss, I walk to my seat in a daze. For the rest of the ceremony, which thankfully isn't more than twenty minutes, I endure the stares and whispers of my fellow graduates. I do my best to ignore them. I can't wait for this to be over, so I can rejoin my man.

Sawyer and Reynolds surround me as I make my way out toward the car. Reporters from the Seattle Times, the Vancouver Columbian, and the Portland Tribune are trying to get to me, shouting questions.

"How long have you known Grey?"

"How did you meet Mr. Grey?"

"Were you surprised by the kiss?"

Yes, I was shocked by the kiss, though I shouldn't have been. Christian told me he had a surprise, and talked about going public today.

My face flushes as I recall my moments on stage with Christian.

" _Anastasia Rose Steele," a dean reads from the card._

" _Congratulations, Ana." The university president remembers my name. The Christian Grey Effect. We shake hands, and I turn to the most beautiful person on the planet._

 _I can't get to him fast enough. I put out my hand to shake, but he's having none of it, taking my hand gently in his._

" _Congratulations, baby. I'm so proud of you."_

" _Thanks. Your robe is mighty fancy, Mr. Grey. Very nice, but I miss seeing the suit."_

" _You'll see it again soon enough. That suit has recently become my favorite."_

 _My back is to the crowd. Christian swings me around to the side and dips me low. I grasp his upper arms to steady myself. He grins broadly, bends, and kisses me squarely on the mouth._

 _Is this really happening? I'm stunned._

 _Christian stands me up, pulls me to him for a hug and another quick kiss._

" _Laters. Stay with Sawyer."_

We find Christian and Taylor at a small parking area near a side entrance. There are two campus police guarding the area.

Christian pulls off his commencement robe and I follow his lead. Taylor puts them on hangers, takes our caps, and neatly zips everything in a garment bag. Sawyer takes the front passenger seat.

"Anastasia, when you get back from Georgia, Sawyer will meet you at the airport. He's permanently assigned as your CPO."

"I promise to stay out of trouble, Sawyer. I'm excellent at following directions."

"Very well, Miss Steele. I'm sure we'll get on just fine."

"As long as you call me Ana."

Christian rolls his eyes, and I decide to sort out all the details with Sawyer later, when we are alone.

"Any idea why Eamon chose the Hotel Lucia for dinner? Is that where they're staying?"

"Yes. It's a boutique hotel and caters to people with pets. Aggie, Kate's grandmother, has two Westies, and she never travels without them. Archie and Flora. So sweet. I adore them."

"You like dogs?"

"Love them. It was my first word."

"I have no idea what my first word was." Christian lowers his head. Shit, I've made him think of his birth mother.

"Whatever you said, I'm sure it was distinctive and brilliant. I bet you pointed at a ball, and said 'sphere,' or gestured at a car and said 'automobile.' Everything you do exceeds expectations."

He knows what kind of expectations I'm talking about. I climb onto his lap. There's no need for words, and in short order we are entwined, lips locked. I'm barely aware of Taylor and Sawyer, as they are engrossed in their own conversation.

Too soon we arrive at our destination.

"Miss Steele, don't ever exit a car until I tell you to. Wait for me to open the door."

I nod at Sawyer in understanding. Christian slides out behind me, and with his hand on the small of my back, he guides me into the lobby. We are met by a young man who shows us to the private dining room.

A long table is set for fifteen. A baby grand fills one corner, and a bar is set up in another. There are banners congratulating Kate and me, and lots of balloons. The decorations are red, white, and black, in keeping with school colors.

We are alone, and with the WSU-V parking lot so crazy and all the traffic, we don't expect company for a while. Great minds think alike, and Christian is reading mine.

He pokes his head out to Taylor, mumbles something, then turns off the lights. We are in the dark, and suddenly the atmosphere becomes highly charged.

We're all hands and mouths and friction. We're back to making out like teenagers. To get lost in each other is such a beautiful thing.

THUNK.

The lights flash on. Elliot is the first person in the room. There's movement behind him, and I see Kate, Ethan, and Mia.

"Damn, Bro, do you ever stop? Good thing Ana's dad didn't walk in to see you two swapping spit. Given five more minutes, you'd be swapping love sauce."

"Is everyone here?"

"Yep. All except Becca and José. They're in the parking lot sharing a blunt and a forty. Not sure either of them wants to come inside. Ana's dad is here, out in the hall talking to Mom."

Christian rolls his eyes at the mention of José and Becca.

"Hope you're ready to meet Dad. Stay here. I'll go get him."

Christian rubs his palms together. Is he nervous? There's really no need. My dad is a sweetheart. I give Christian a reassuring kiss.

Dad is still speaking to Grace. Sounds like they are bonding over a mutual fondness for the Fish Shack in Westport.

"Hi, Daddy. Hi, Grace."

I put my arms around Dad's waist and hug him close.

"Thank you, Grace, for coming to commencement. I know you came for Christian, but it also feels like you're here for Kate and me. It means a lot."

"You're welcome, Ana. Wouldn't have missed it for the world. How about my seriously smitten son and that kiss?"

I feel my face flush, and I hesitantly look up at Dad.

"That was quite unexpected."

Dad senses my embarrassment, and he reassuringly kisses my forehead.

"I can see he's crazy about you, Annie."

"Are you ready to meet him?"

"Sure."

"Excuse us, Grace." She winks at me and grins.

I pull Dad along and find Christian with Elliot. Elliot sees us coming, and steps away to leave us alone.

"Dad, this is Christian Grey. Christian, meet my dad, Ray Steele."

"Hello, sir. It's a pleasure."

"That was quite a speech. You have many impressive accomplishments."

"Thanks, but you're the one who holds the title of 'greatest man who has ever lived,' so I'd say you're the accomplished one."

"Greatest man?"

"Yes, sir, that's what Anastasia calls you. The greatest man who's ever lived. How can I ever measure up in comparison to that?"

"Annie, did you really say that about your old man?"

"Of course. You're the best dad in the world."

"Anastasia tells me you enjoy fishing."

"It's my favorite pastime."

"You'll have to join Dad, Elliot, and me. Dad loves the Skagit, the U.S. side."

I leave Dad and Christian to talk fish, while I search for my friends. Sawyer appears from nowhere and follows.

I meet José in the hall.

"Oh, hi. You've been missed. I trust you and Becca are feeling no pain. If you need a designated driver, I can do that for you."

"You sound disapproving. Now you're with the rich prick, and you've turned into fucking Judge Judy."

Sawyer stands a few feet away and appears to be texting someone. If I had to guess, I'd say Taylor.

"Please don't call Christian names. It's disrespectful to him and to me. What you and Becca do is your business. I just don't want you driving home while you're impaired."

"I'm fine. I'm not planning on indulging in anything else. I just needed to take the edge off."

"Okay. If you change your mind and need a driver, let me know."

As I turn away, José grabs my arm.

"We never went zip-lining."

"Time got away from us. Maybe we can plan something for the end of the summer, before you go back to school."

"Maybe."

"I don't like seeing you hurt, and we probably need some time apart."

José rubs his eyes, and when he takes his hands away, I see tears.

"I took photographs for you. I got a really good shot of Grey kissing you. None of the newspapers got the shot. Levi missed out as well. I've been offered a lot of money for the pictures, and for information about you."

Sawyer steps forward, but I wave him off.

"Are you selling?"

"I'd never do that. I'm in love with you."

"José. You can't say things like that. You know I'm in love with Christian."

"Yeah. Eleven billion dollars comes along in the form of a stranger, and you suddenly find love."

"How dare you! I expect that from other people, but not from you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Of course you're not a gold digger. What did he do to make you fall in love with him?"

"Christian didn't _**do**_ anything. He just _**is**_. His nature suits mine. We fit together."

"I miss you, Ana. I miss the way things were."

"And I miss my friend."

"Are you coming to my show? You promised you would."

"Of course, but I'll ask Christian to be my date."

"Ana, you're killing me."

"Don't make me choose. I'll choose Christian. Every single time. He's part of every decision I make from here on out."

"Anastasia? Is everything okay?" Christian interrupts, and I put my arms out to him, pulling him close.

"Everything is fine. José just reminded me of his photography show in Portland on the tenth. Think you might be home by then?"

"I'll certainly make every effort."

"José also told me he's been offered money for the kiss photos, but he turned them down."

"I would never sell the commencement photos, Ana. They're part of your graduation gift."

"We appreciate that." Christian speaks for the two of us.

Becca and Kate join us.

"You do know that Levi has been shopping around photos of Ana?"

"Becca, how do you know this?" Christian's voice is clipped. He's in CEO mode.

"He told me today after the ceremony. Said the cat is out of the bag, and he has a goldmine of pictures."

"Shit. Give me his contact information. If he wants to sell photos, I'm buying."

"What about the photographer and videographer hired by the university?" I wonder if they'll sell out.

"Baby, I've taken care of that." I'm sure he has.

When we return to the dining room, most of our party is seated at the table, enjoying cocktails and a variety of appetizers. I can see Christian is still aggravated over Levi, so I suggest we have some wine, and ask him to choose.

"I'll order a white. How about some oysters to go with the wine?"

"I've never had oysters."

"I take my job of boyfriend very seriously, and part of that job is to provide you with new and stimulating experiences." Christian winks flirtatiously, and I know he's talking about more than oysters.

He speaks to the bartender, who brings a bottle of Sancerre and two glasses. Within a few minutes, three platters of oysters appear. One is placed in front of us. The other two are for the group to share.

"These are Kumamotos, perfect for your first time. They're small, easy to handle."

"How do I eat them?"

"All you do is tip and swallow. I know you can manage that." My handsome man gives me a wink.

"I don't chew?"

"No. Pull it into your mouth, and swallow it whole."

Christian squirts lemon juice on one and puts it to my lips.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

He tips the oyster into my mouth and it slides easily down my throat. I lick the briny juice from my lips. Salt, citrus, and a creamy sweetness. Divine.

"Well?"

"Can we do that again?" My words are meant to recall our first night together.

"We aim to please, Miss Steele."

We take turns feeding each other oysters, sipping our wine. For the past few minutes, Christian and I have been in our own little bubble of love and joy. The room has been quiet, and we look up to see everyone has been watching us. My self-consciousness returns and I'm acutely aware of my dad.

Kate breaks the silence.

"Ana, your bracelet! It's beautiful. Oh, my gosh, why am I just now noticing? Cartier. Look, Mia."

"Christian gave it to me for graduation." I hold out my left wrist so Kate can see the bracelet.

"You did well, son. You've been taking lessons from your dad." Grace beams at Christian.

"It's romantic and sexy as hell," Becca adds.

"Ana, I didn't take you for the type who's into bondage." Aggie, Kate's grandmother, feels the need to put in her two-cents worth. "It's always the quiet ones."

"Banana's not exactly quiet. She's very loud and enthusiastic. We learned that during our nights in Montana."

"Elliot!" Kate slaps his arm.

"What are you talking about, Nana?" Ethan asks, clearly irritated with his grandmother.

"I'm talking about those sex slave bracelets. The kind you can't take off, because your master has the key. I've heard all about those. A man gives you one of those when you are his sex slave."

Christian is tense. All this talk of master, bondage, and sex slaves has him on edge. I put a hand on his thigh and draw circles to help soothe him.

"Where did you hear that?" Kate is red-faced, embarrassed by her grandmother.

Christian pushes his chair closer to mine and leans into me.

"Edna Chaffee told me. Her daughter, Penelope, has one of those. She also has another Cartier piece that looks like little handcuffs. Edna and I can't understand why Penelope would accept such a thing. Ana, you shouldn't allow someone to publicly christen you his sex slave."

Christian has heard enough.

"Mrs. Kavanagh, you and your friend are misinformed. The bracelet has nothing to do with sexual slavery. It represents deep, enduring love. I gave Anastasia the bracelet because she is mine, just as I am hers. The bracelet locks, because our love is strong, and we intend to be together for a long time."

"Fuck, dude, where's my brother and what did you do to him?"

The Greys join in hearty laughter at Elliot's remark. Only they can appreciate the huge changes Christian has made. Having known Christian for such a short time, I'll never fully understand it.

"All that sex slave business is nonsense. Let's drop it." Papa K admonishes his mother.

Before dinner Kate and I open our graduation gifts together. Each of us received exactly the same things.

There are checks from the Kavanagh grandparents and Mama and Papa K. Uncle José has tucked twenty dollars into the sweetest card, telling me how proud he is to know me.

As promised, Elliot has constructed koa boxes for Kate and me. In his workshop, Dad crafted handheld mirrors from walnut and carved our initials on the back.

Mia gives us personalized stationery, while Grace and Carrick gift us elegant Mont Blanc pens.

Kate and I receive certificates from Christian for a spa weekend. He's endlessly thoughtful and sweet.

Only Becca would give us tantric sex manuals. Kate freely passes them around for all to see.

José presents each of us with an album of photos taken over our years together, and it brings me to tears as I flip through it.

Dinner is a convivial blur. We've all had just enough alcohol to put us in jolly moods. Even José's glum mood has lifted.

I can't finish my halibut, so Christian cleans my plate for me. As he eats, I shiver. It's the smallest of movements, but Christian notices. He removes his jacket and places it around my shoulders. He gives me 'the look' and I shiver again, but this time it's not due to the temperature of the room. We are both remembering the jacket and our lovely sex-fueled morning.

As the table is cleared of dinner, we all retreat to restrooms. Christian is waiting for me when I exit the ladies' room. We pass as Dad and Papa K are talking in low tones.

"And you're sure twenty bucks a head will cover everything?"

"I told you, Ray, we stay at this hotel all the time, and they offered me a really great deal."

"Okay, this should cover the two Josés, Christian, Annie, and me, and a tip."

Dad pulls cash out of his wallet.

I glance up at Christian and we exchange knowing looks. The meals and drinks cost far more than twenty dollars per person, but Dad doesn't know that. Dad is a proud man and wants to pay his share. Papa K understands, but also knows Daddy doesn't have much money. Instead of telling Dad not to pay, which would be dismissive and hurtful, Papa K thoughtfully asks only for what he knows Dad is able to pay.

"I like your dad."

"He likes you, too."

"Come."

Christian takes my hand and leads me to the elevator. We get off on the third floor, and he pulls me to a door labeled 'Housekeeping.' I see Taylor at one end of the hall and Sawyer at the other.

My belly tightens in anticipation.

Christian opens the door, and flicks on a light. We survey the tiny room, each of us wordlessly searching for a comfortable surface.

"Looks like we'll have to stand and slam."

"What's that?"

"Like we've done in the shower."

Christian moves aside a cart to give access to a section of wall. He snatches up a heavy plastic milk crate, turns it over, and shoves it into the corner.

"Slip off your shoes."

He lifts me onto the crate, then switches off the light. We're in complete darkness.

I'm against the wall. Christian holds my arms up with one hand. His free hand roams my body.

Soft kisses turn deep, passionate.

"Please. Let me touch you. Touch your cock."

He frees my hands, and I unzip his pants, liberating his erection. I stroke his shaft, and feel the powerful, steady thump of his pulse. My other hand travels between Christian's hair, which I pull madly, and his ass, which I squeeze madly.

Christian unties my halter and pulls it to my waist, giving him complete access to my breasts. He licks and suckles, and I can't contain my sounds of pleasure.

He reaches under layers of chiffon, pulling at my panties. Christian tears them from my body, and the sound of ripping lace fuels my need. His talented tongue licks and nips at my clit. I nearly come when he sucks, then gently bites.

"You're so wet for me, baby. This will be quick. Spread your legs."

I hear the crackle of a wrapper, and Christian slips on the condom.

He gains access by pulling my right leg up around his hip.

"You. Are. Mine."

He thrusts and grinds. Three times. That's all it takes for me to fall over the edge. I grunt his name, and he answers my call, growling my name in return, coming right behind me.

I'm a limp noodle draped against his hard frame.

"Shit, baby, when your pussy squeezes my dick like that, I can't help but come. I lose all control with you."

"I'm going to miss you, miss this, miss us. Oh, Christian…"

"I know. We've just reunited and now we part again."

"But this time it's different."

"Yes, this time it's different." Christian's nose strokes mine, and he softly kisses my face.

"Let's go. Everyone has missed us by now."

Christian flips the light back on, and the glare is most unwelcome.

He removes the condom, ties it off, and throws it in the trashcan stationed in the corner of the tiny room. He helps me retie my halter, and we finger comb and smooth each other's hair.

Christian stuffs the torn panties into his pants pocket.

"I'll enjoy those later."

"How?"

"I'll savor the lingering scent of your arousal. Then I'll jack off into the lace, while remembering the feel of your heat around my cock."

I gasp. This is not something I ever thought a man would say to me, and it's such a turn on.

 **Christian**

"That stirs your libido, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Don't be embarrassed. I like it. Your arousal ignites my own."

We walk quickly back to the dining room, knowing it's almost time to say good-bye.

Dessert has been served, and everyone looks us up and down as we enter. They've probably guessed what we've been up to.

The waiter checks on us, and Ana orders a cup of tea.

I excuse myself, and move to the piano. Taylor has placed my iPad on the music rack, and I pull up the sheet music for _My One and Only Love_. I wink at Anastasia to let her know I'm singing just for her. I pour all of my longing, all of my love, into the lyrics.

 _The touch of your hand is like heaven,_

 _A heaven that I've never known._

 _The blush on your cheek whenever I speak_

 _Tells me that you are my own._

 _You fill my eager heart with such desire._

 _Every kiss you give sets my soul on fire._

 _I give myself in sweet surrender,_

 _My one and only love._

When I return to the table, Anastasia's eyes are moist with joy. She tries to speak, but a small croaking sound comes out. She nestles her head into my shoulder. Her hands clasp mine, and she squeezes to let me know what she can't say with words.

"Shit, dude, you trying to make the rest of us look bad?"

All the females, with the exception of Granny Kavanagh, are crying.

I don't want to leave, but I know it's time. Mother and Dad are sharing a ride with me.

"Are you two ready?"

"Sure, I just need a minute to say my good-byes." Mom's minute will probably turn into at least a half hour.

I decide to have a few words with the Rodriguez kid.

"José?"

He nods at me sullenly, but follows me over to the piano. I've never had a conversation like this before. I'm doing this for Anastasia.

"You and Anastasia are close friends. Because of that, I'd like for us to get along."

"I've known her longer. There are things about her you don't know. Did you know she loves peanut butter? She only eats Peter Pan Crunchy. Raspberry jam is her favorite, and she likes the kind from Trader Joe's. She loves thunder, but hates lightning. When she was little, she wanted to be a mermaid. Did you know any of that?"

"No, but I intend to learn all that, and more." It's true. Anastasia and I don't know each other as well as we'd like.

"You don't know shit about Anastasia."

"I know a few things. I know she's ticklish behind her ears, likes her baths hot and her showers warm, and prefers the left side of the bed."

"Prick."

"I came over here to make nice. You're the one acting like a dick."

I walk away, searching for Ana's dad.

"Sir, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you again soon."

"It was good to meet you. Son, I hope you're serious about my Annie."

"I'm quite serious about her. I'll take good care of her."

"Are you planning to propose soon?"

What the fuck? Propose? I'm not husband material. How am I supposed to respond to this? Ah, yes, the old trick of responding to a question with another question.

"I'm not sure we've reached that point, but how would you feel about that?"

"Annie can make up her own mind about things. She doesn't need my permission, but you do. If you want to stay in my good graces, you'd best get my permission."

I'll humor Mr. Steele, while being completely noncommittal.

"Well, sir, do I have your permission for a possible proposal?"

As if. Me with a wife? Stop the presses.

"Do you love her?"

"I do."

"Yes, I believe you do." Ray strokes his chin. I swear a full minute passes before he speaks again. He's enjoying this. "Okay, son, you have my permission to pursue my daughter's affections, even as far as marriage."

"Thank you, sir."

"Have a safe trip overseas. You and Annie come for a visit soon."

"Yes, sir."

I finish my good-byes and find my girl.

I pull Anastasia outside. I don't want anyone around while I say goodbye to her.

"Text me anytime and all the time. I want to know where you are, what you're doing."

"I will not text you the boring details of my life, while you conduct important business."

"I told you. I'm fascinated by every little thing you do. I'm so grateful for you, Anastasia."

"Yes, Christian, I believe you are. A heart filled with love and gratitude is a very attractive thing."

My beauty kisses me sweetly.

"I always thought I didn't have a heart, but you've proved me wrong."

"Your heart is deep. Maybe that's why it holds so much agony. I'd like to dig out the pain and backfill with joy."

"You've brought me great happiness in such a short time. You've changed me. Everyone says so."

"You've changed yourself. I'm only a catalyst."

She's wrong. She has changed me.

Change may occur slowly, or with great rapidity. But when change comes, it arrives one moment at a time.

One smile. One word. One kiss.

One person.

Change comes in small packages, delivered one after another.

One after another, one moment at a time.

I am changed.

I hold Anastasia tightly to me. Her small hands fist my hair.

She is a tonic, a salve, a balm.

And miracle of miracles, she is mine.


	17. Hearts Apart

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 17**

 **Hearts Apart**

 **Friday, May 27, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

Our move has gone off without a hitch. Kate and I have had plenty of help. Elliot and Mia spent the night. Travis, José, and Becca showed up before eight, and together we loaded up the U-Haul truck in short order.

José's presence ended up being a wonderful surprise. He was his old self, boyish, charming, and I let him know how happy I was for our reunion.

"After my dad reamed me for being such an ass to Grey, and your dad threatened to take me to the woodshed, I felt a bit guilty. Then Becca convinced me I needed a thorough fucking, so she and I went a couple of rounds, and now I think I have my head in the right place. Becca's been through something similar, and she assures me, I can get past this infatuation with you. I'm sorry, Ana. I put you in a bad position, and I acted like an asshole."

I don't know which is funnier, my dad threatening José, or Becca fucking away José's crush. It feels good to laugh.

"It's a relief to be in a good place again. I'm thrilled to have my friend back." I hug José, and it's like old times.

"Did you tell Ana about Levi and that Seattle Nooz guy?" Becca joins us.

"Oh, yeah. Some guy from the Nooz was over at our place last night. Levi invited him over. He offered me money for pictures and the dope on you and Grey, but I threw him out. Becca and I believe Levi already has a deal in the works."

Well, shit. Christian said he would offer Levi money for pictures—wonder how that went. I send off a text informing Christian of Levi's Nooz contact, but I don't hear anything back. With the time difference, I hope Christian is asleep. I worry about his sleep patterns when we're apart.

Mia and I ride to Seattle in Wanda. We grouse about the hassles of moving, finding a dentist and doctor. Mia recommends a hairdresser, Franco, at the Post Alley salon co-owned by Christian and the pedophile. Mia spills all sorts of information, how her parents are so grateful Elena "mentored" Christian, and what "a special relationship" Elena and Christian share. Every time I hear the pedo-bitch's name, I throw up a little in my mouth.

When we reach our new home, there's a FedEx package waiting for me. I anxiously run to the bathroom with the package. I think it's from Christian. I can't rip it open fast enough. There's a printed card.

 **Missing you. Loving you.**

 **CTG**

I kiss the card. I miss and love you, too, handsome.

My man has sent an assortment of lingerie. I take quick pics of the box contents and send them to Christian, thanking him, and letting him know we arrived safely in Seattle.

Sawyer arrives, so there are five of us to unload. There's no way Kate and I could have made this move by ourselves. Elliot and Sawyer put together beds, mount the television, and hook up our electronics. We enjoy a productive day, and by evening the new apartment has come together.

Sawyer has been a huge help, and he heads home for a nap, extracting a promise from me not to leave the apartment without him. He'll return late tonight to take me to SEATAC.

While we all take a break, I put on a lacy pair of pale gray panties. They are flirty and sexy, with a bow in the back. There's also a matching bra. I want a nice rear view to send my man, so I call out to Kate for assistance.

"Jeez, Ana, your ass is magnificent. Where did you get these?"

I hand Kate my phone.

"Christian sent them. Do you mind taking a photo of my butt? Sexy, but not too risqué."

Kate snaps away.

"Thanks, Bug."

"It's obvious you're missing him. You've been more quiet than usual. Elliot and Mia have noticed, too."

We just became a couple. Christian and I should be together, lavishing love and affection on one another.

I send a photo and a text.

 **My ass misses your ass.**

Mia, Elliot, and Kate pick up Chinese take-out for our dinner. I adore Kate and Elliot together as a couple. Even arguing over an egg roll, they're cute.

Christian received my panty pic and text.

 **C: I see England, I see France, I see Ana's underpants. ;p**

 **A: Goofball boyfriend.**

 **C: Guilty as charged.**

Sawyer transports me to SEATAC. I feel so pampered. He pulls up curbside, unloads my bag, and pulls it inside. I feel downright spoiled, when I discover I've been upgraded to first class.

I'm taking the red eye. The late hour means fewer passengers in the terminal, so I'm able to pass through airport security quickly. With time to kill, I consider which book I'll start first. I pass a place called The Massage Bar. I can get a seated half hour massage for $43. I decide to use some of my graduation money and treat myself.

A handsome fellow about my age, Jean-Paul, is assigned to me. The massage is administered over my clothes, limited to my head, back, shoulders, arms, and hands. Jean-Paul is very pleasant, doesn't talk much, and has strong, capable hands.

Missing my man, I can't resist making contact again.

 **A: Thank you for the upgrade to first class.**

 **C: You're welcome. I miss you.**

 **A: And I miss you. Just had my first back/neck massage and it made me think of you.**

 **C: WHAT?**

 **A: It recalled the memory of a certain foot massage.**

 **C: Who massaged you?**

 **A: Jean-Paul**

 **C: You allowed a man to massage your back?**

 **A: Yes. A licensed massage therapist.**

 **C: Describe Jean-Paul.**

 **A: Young, handsome, pleasant. Very pleasant.**

 **C: You're killing me. You. Are. Mine.**

 **A: Very pleasant and very gay. All I could think about was your hands on my body.**

 **C: Killing me again, but in a different way.**

 **A: May I give you a full body massage one day? I promise the happiest of endings. ; )**

 **C: I'd like that. I'm working on it.**

 **A: I know you are, and I love you for it.**

 **C: And I love you.**

 **A: Gotta go. My flight is being called.**

 **C: Be safe. Laters.**

 **Saturday, May 28, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

"Ana! Over here!"

Mom seems happy to see me. I run into her embrace.

"Oh, baby girl. It's wonderful to have you here."

"I missed you, Mama."

"Whatever you want to do, we'll do it."

"How about relaxing on the beach this morning?"

"The beach it is."

We go straight to the house. It's on Tybee Island, which is about a half hour drive from downtown Savannah. The house is quite spacious for just two people. It has three large bedrooms and two and a half baths. It's in a lovely neighborhood, three blocks from the ocean.

Bob is a kind man, in his early fifties. He has no children of his own, and was a widower when he met Mom. He retired from the Air Force, where he had been Security Police. Upon retiring from the military after twenty years, he joined a civilian police force. After a few years, he decided he was too old for police work, and joined a company selling commercial alarm systems. He is Sales Director for the southeastern US.

Bob is well-fixed financially, which is a good thing for Mom, since she doesn't manage money very well.

I change into the tangerine bikini, and pull Christian's t-shirt over it. I snap a pic and send it to Christian.

The walk to the beach is invigorating, and Mom is as chatty as ever.

"Ray was short on details, but he mentioned a boyfriend."

"It's all very new, but I'm crazy about him. His name is Christian. He's brilliant and sweet and gorgeous."

"We need to catch up. Goodness, that's a pretty bracelet. Is it from Charming Charlie?" Mom mentions one of my favorite shops, knowing I like cheap faux jewelry.

"No. It was a graduation gift from Christian."

"You should take it off. It'll get ruined in the salt water."

"I can't. See." I hold out my wrist, and slide the bracelet up, showing it can't be removed. "It's gold. Christian says it will hold up under any conditions."

"Gold? Are those real diamonds?"

"Yes."

"Wow. He must be fond of you. Seems you've taken my advice and ditched the frumpy tankini. That bikini suits you. Not only did you get my face, but you also got my body."

Mom has always been supremely confident about her appearance, and likes to think we're twins.

"Thanks for the chromosomes. Christian seems to appreciate my appearance."

"You say he's gorgeous. Got pictures?"

There are photos I don't want her to see, so I scroll through carefully, and hold tight to my phone.

"New phone?"

"Yes. Christian gave it to me."

"The generous sort. I like him already. How old is he?"

"Twenty-seven. Look. Isn't he dreamy?"

"He is. Looks familiar. Like an actor or athlete. What's his last name?"

"Grey. Christian Grey."

"ANA!" Mom gasps. She's processing his identity. "He's the guy in the magazines. Most beautiful, sexiest man—"

"Yes. All that and more."

"Oh. My. God. Tell me."

I explain how we met, how we kept in touch after Montana. I tell Mom all about the wonderful Greys, as well as the romance between Kate and Elliot.

"Do you think Christian is ready for marriage?"

"No, neither of us is close to being ready for serious commitments."

I neglect to tell her my heart is already seriously committed to Christian.

"That's wise, sweetie. You're only twenty-one. You should spend the next decade having fun, dating lots of men, traveling, having lots of sex."

Oh, jeez.

It's on. My mother explains the male psyche and all about how to keep a man. Never mind the fact that she's been through several of them already.

As Mom goes on about men and missed opportunities, the sun burns higher and hotter. Jet lag catches up with me.

"I've had enough. I need a nap, and then I have work to do."

"Work?"

"Manuscripts. It's a part-time job."

"You've always worked way too hard. You should make fun a priority, like I do."

 **Christian**

Jet lagged, sleep deprived, and waiting.

Waiting for room service to deliver my dinner and waiting for Anastasia to contact me. She's still airborne, so it's too soon to hear from her, but I expect she'll make contact as soon as she arrives in Georgia.

I'm trying not to act like a needy boyfriend, but let's face it, I _am_ a needy boyfriend.

Dinner finally arrives and there's absolutely nothing wrong with it, except Anastasia's not here to share it with me. She should have landed by now. She should be calling or texting me.

My phone buzzes.

It's a text from the security Taylor hired. There's a photo attached.

It's Anastasia and her mother at the Savannah airport.

There's quite a resemblance between the two. Mother is aging nicely. I wonder what Anastasia will look like in ten, twenty, forty years. Pictures of her float through my imagination. Yes, she'll always be beautiful.

My phone rings.

Shit. I've considered blocking Elena's number, but Taylor dissuaded me. He reasons it's easier to control her, if I maintain contact. That remains to be seen.

"Grey."

"Christian, darling, you know it's me." Elena uses her breathy sing-song voice, her Marilyn Monroe wannabe voice. She's not just pleasant, she's flirtatious. "How are you? And where are you? It's been too long."

"I'm fine. Taiwan. What do you want? If you're calling about the car, that's a dead issue."

"No, darling, not the car. I'm at Bravern. When I arrived a few minutes ago, a courier was waiting for me. There's a letter from your lawyer, Cleve Anderson. Says I'm to meet him at Grey House on Wednesday afternoon at one."

"Okay."

"Okay? What's the purpose of the meeting? The letter says I should bring my own representation. What's that about?"

"I'm not an attorney, Elena. I don't know why you need representation. Here's what I do know. The salons are a miniscule share of my portfolio. Cleve and my accountants are reorganizing my holdings. I've left them with full authority to make alterations as they see fit. If I were you, I'd expect changes in how the salons operate."

"Changes? What's going on?"

Until now Elena has been careful to take an even tone, but her pitch has turned high, sharp, shrill.

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"As I said, the salons are little more than a footnote to my portfolio. Frankly, I don't care what happens to the salons."

"Don't care?" Elena whimpers. "Those salons are my livelihood. They're special, something you and I created together. We've shared so much. Can't you remember what we've been to each other?"

Elena attempts a tug at my heartstrings. It's a futile appeal to the heart she told me I never possessed. Her entreaty is proof. Even when I didn't, she was fully aware of my capacity for love and affection.

I didn't believe it possible to loathe anyone as much as I do Elena in this moment.

I bite my tongue. The time has not yet arrived to tell Mrs. Lincoln how I feel about her.

"I need to go. It's late."

"Don't you dare hang up. This has something to do with that piece of snatch you're chasing. We've shared too much for you to shut me out—"

"Goodbye, Mrs. Lincoln."

While I was talking to Elena, a photo has come through.

 **With Mom. We have an appointment with the Atlantic.**

My beauty has sent a selfie. She's in my t-shirt, and she's pulled it up, so I can see the bottom of her orange bikini.

I love the photo, but hate the thought of other men seeing her body. I guess it would be too demanding of me to insist she never remove the shirt. I don't want to upset her, but damn, she looks too tempting in that bikini.

 _I don't want to upset her._

I chuckle to myself, as I consider the possibility that I am now Anastasia's submissive. She owns me. I need to hear her voice. I know I won't be able to sleep, especially after talking to Elena.

I want my girl.

 **Anastasia**

After a shower and a much needed nap, I sort through manuscripts. There's banging at the door. It can only be Mom.

"Come in."

"I'm having trouble with the knob," my mother shouts. "And my arms are full."

I open the door to Mom, who peeks at me through an enormous arrangement of long-stemmed white roses.

"Just arrived for you. Two dozen. I counted. Most roses from florists aren't fragrant, but these are heavenly."

"Let me take those." Oh, they do smell divine.

The dresser seems the right place for them. It takes me a moment to find the card.

 **One rose for each day I have known my Rose.**

 **All my love, C.**

 **x**

I clutch the card to my heart. Christian is so poetic, so romantic. Through both word and deed, he spoils me.

"From your beau?"

"Yes." I tuck the card inside my bag. "Let's sit and have some wine. We need to talk."

"Sounds serious. What do we need to discuss?"

Mom follows me to the kitchen.

"Things. I'm going through a transition."

The fridge contains several bottles of wine. I grab the first bottle I see. Moscato. Mom hands me a corkscrew and pulls down two wine glasses.

As I open the wine, my mother studies me.

I pour, and Mom raises her glass to me.

"To my daughter, the college graduate."

"Thanks, Mama. About graduation…I was extremely disappointed that you didn't attend."

"I explained all that. You've seen for yourself how that boot contraption slows Bob down."

"On the way here I saw people in wheelchairs with oxygen tanks boarding planes. And if Bob didn't want to come, you should have come by yourself."

"I'm married, and Bob comes first."

Ouch. This hurts, but it's a good lesson on how not to be a mother. There are times when a husband must become a priority. I know enough about marriage to understand that, but shouldn't children's needs always be considered?

"You weren't at my high school graduation, either, and you were between marriages."

"I was living with Bob then."

"You just told me husbands take precedence over children. He wasn't your husband yet. You could've attended my high school graduation."

I'm being petty, but right this minute, I feel no shame over it.

"I can't remember all the circumstances at the time, but I'm sure I had good reason to stay home." My mother quickly gulps down the contents of her glass. "This is so unlike you. You're being so accusatory."

"I haven't accused you of anything. Not yet, anyway. Right now I'm just recounting facts."

My mother refills her wine glass.

"What do you mean, you haven't accused me of anything yet?"

"I'm well aware that Bob is your husband, but I'm your child, your only child. I know you love me, but I haven't been a priority for you in quite some time."

"You're accusing me of being a bad mother?"

"I've needed a mother for a very long time, and you haven't been available."

"It was your choice to run back to Ray. I wanted you to stay with me."

"You wouldn't leave Steven. It's tragic enough that you allowed yourself to be a man's punching bag. But you cared so little for my safety. You expected me to live with an abusive alcoholic. I never wanted to leave Daddy, but you forced the situation by playing the 'real' parent card. Raymond Steele is my real father, real in every sense that counts."

"Maybe I was a little slow to figure out Steven, but if you had stayed, I'm sure it would've been good between you and me."

"It's difficult having to recall that time. You wouldn't leave that piece of shit, and I felt terrible guilt for leaving you behind. Once I was back with Dad, I worried day and night, frightened over what Steven might be doing to you. You caused me such grief and consternation."

"You make it sound as if you were the parent and I was the child. I do believe I was always attentive to your needs."

"You've never been particularly attentive. You were never completely available to me, even when we lived together with Daddy."

"I don't understand where this is coming from. You're being mean, Ana, and you're never mean. This boyfriend of yours must be a bad influence on you."

Am I being mean? Spiteful? Small? Probably. But I have years of pent up anger, just begging to be unleashed. I'm actually holding back, showing restraint. And how dare she bring Christian into this!

"Bad influence? Never. Did you know I never had feelings for anyone? Not until Christian came along in all his overwhelming glory. Before meeting Christian, I was closed off to men. Christian split me wide open, forcing me to examine my life, where I've been, and where I'm going."

"What are you implying? It's my fault you didn't have boyfriends until Christian came along? I'm calling bullshit."

"I'm content in not having a boyfriend before Christian. He's perfect, and worth the wait. I'd never blame you for my lack of a relationship. That wouldn't be completely fair."

"I'll tell you why Christian is your first boyfriend. Your nose is always in a book. You insist on working all the time, and you don't dress properly. If a woman isn't attractive, it's because she's not doing the right things. I provided an example of how to be feminine and alluring."

"Yes, thanks for that." I don't bother hiding the contempt in my voice.

"Damn it. Two graduations and you've concluded I'm an incompetent mother."

"It's not just two graduations. You've never celebrated my birthday on the tenth. And when you did get around to any kind of celebration, it was something half-assed. I never had a birthday party, until Kate surprised me with one. You missed Frank Lambert, but should I have suffered for it?"

"Boo-friggity-hoo. You do know there are children starving somewhere? And there you go, feeling sorry for yourself, because you never had a goddamn birthday party. Don't think I didn't know you and Ray celebrated without me. He spoiled you rotten, taking you out to ice cream parlors, and buying you those Playmobil toys you liked so much. He probably would have bought one of those expensive American Girl dolls, if I hadn't put my foot down."

Starving children. I think of Christian, small, hungry, afraid. Thank God he survived. I wonder what sort of toys he enjoyed. I imagine a solitary young Christian playing with Legos. There are so many things we don't know about each other.

I warm at the thought of Christian with a daughter. I bet he'd buy out the entire American Girl store. He'd be overindulgent, but he'd be a fabulous father. Too bad it will never happen.

"I didn't want to get into it, but since we're engaging in mutual evisceration, you've done things that have eroded my trust in you. Things that make it difficult to trust a man."

"And what am I being blamed for now?"

This discussion is going quickly downhill, but I've gone too far to back down now. I have too much hurt stored up, and I won't be able to stay here if I can't reach an understanding with her.

"I'm afraid Christian will tire of me and cheat."

"What the hell? How could I cause a problem like that?"

"Don't tell me whether you did or you didn't, but there was an indecently short period of time between your divorce from Dad and your marriage to Steven. And leading up to the divorce you were online all the time, sneaking off to take calls. You went on girls' weekends, but when I asked Mrs. Vygotsky if she enjoyed her visit with you to Vegas, she hadn't a clue what I was talking about."

"How long have you been waiting to beat me up over the divorce from Ray? Maybe I could have handled things differently, but I don't understand why you feel hurt over my split with him. I know you love Ray more than you love me, and you feel protective of him, but—"

"No! You're wrong. I don't love Dad more than I love you. I trust Dad more and feel closer to him, because he's never cheated. He's always there for me. I'm not his flesh and blood, but he always makes me feel valued and respected."

"You don't feel valued and respected by me? Well, I don't feel respected by you."

"I was eleven, and smart enough to figure out things weren't right. Daddy was off to parts unknown, serving our country, and almost every day for a whole year, I'd get off the school bus to find Ike Clifton's car in our driveway. I woke up one night to get a drink of water and found Ike wandering around in his boxers. When you cheated on Daddy, you not only disrespected my male role model, but you disrespected me too. You cheated on both of us."

"I was lonely. I needed a friend. You don't understand how things were."

"I understand plenty. Don't you think Dad was lonely, patrolling some remote site, trying to stay alive, so he could see us again."

"Ike was just a friend. He comforted me."

"I told you. I don't want the gory details. I don't want to know whether you physically cheated or not. Best case scenario, you were having an emotional affair. You were disloyal to Daddy. You were disloyal to our family. Whether it's emotional or physical, when a parent cheats, it affects the whole family. The time and energy put into cheating takes away from the family unit."

"And what does any of this, all these theories of yours, what does this have to do with you not having a boyfriend until now?"

"If I can't trust my own mother not to break my heart, how can I trust a man?"

Mom puts down her wine glass. Her eyes are scrunched in frustration, and for the first time, I notice small lines of age and stress on her face.

"Damn it. I've always loved you. Don't you understand that?"

"Yes, but I think you get caught up in your own wants and sometimes forget about me."

"I'm sorry for disappointing you. You sound so resentful. Is some of this about the money?"

Ah, yes, the social security payments my mother began receiving upon the death of my birth father. The monthly checks were for my support. When Mom ran off with Steven, she continued receiving the direct deposits, saying she'd be destitute without the money. Ray Steele, being the kind and generous sort, didn't object until money for college became an issue. When he insisted the money was mine, not hers, she finally relinquished control.

"The money has never been a big issue. It would have been nice to have received it earlier, but it was there during college. Resentful? Yes, I'm somewhat resentful. I'm not proud of it. I can put it behind me, but only if I can count on you. From here on out, I need you to be a mother."

"You can depend on me. I didn't think having me around was that big a deal to you. And I'm sorry about Steven. As for Ike, I just needed a friend."

"I thought you had friends. Bowling, mah-jongg, pottery class."

"Male attention. It's something I need."

"And Steven?"

"Things had gone stale with Ray."

"Isn't it normal for relationships to fall into slumps? Instead of cheating, why didn't you fight for your marriage? For Dad, and also for me? It hurts, even now."

"It's easier to start over with someone new. All that new relationship energy is exciting. Having someone chase you, desire you. It's thrilling. That's the truth."

New relationship energy. That's what Christian and I have. It will fade, and then we'll be done. I guess that's how things work.

Mom tops off her glass and holds the bottle out to me.

"No, thanks."

"Is Christian good in the sack?"

"What the-I'm not going to talk about that."

"I do hope you're on birth control. Don't make the same mistake I did."

My mother hits another nerve.

"I understand completely what a mistake I was, and how I messed up your life. I heard you tell Dad you didn't want any more kids, because I was trouble enough."

"You've never been like this before. Is this visit all about making me feel guilty?"

"You referred to my birth as a mistake. Maybe you should feel guilty."

"Honey, I didn't mean that way. I was just too young."

I'm so done with my mother right now. I'm the one who made a mistake, thinking I could somehow make my mother see me as valuable, important.

"Look at me, Ana."

Our eyes meet, and I see a flicker of what I want to think is tenderness. I look deeper, and I'm forced to confront the truth. My mother is a skilled actress.

"I'll ask Bob if we can make a trip out to Seattle soon. You'll see, baby girl. I'll be there for you."

"I'll always need and want a mother. Just so you know, I only celebrate my birthday on the tenth."

And when I need and want a mother, I'll look to Mama K.

"I'll try to be what you need."

Right.

"Thanks, Mom. I can't ask for more than that."

With that, our emotional confrontation is over. Mom turns on the TV, choosing the diversion of a turgid Lifetime melodrama.

I've just gone ten rounds with a full-blown narcissist. I wish to hell I'd never come to Georgia. What's that old saying? _Never try to teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and annoys the pig._

Bob arrives home wanting to take us to his country club for dinner.

I step into my graduation dress, smiling as I recall Christian untying the halter during our tryst in the utility closet. Ballet flats, a messy bun, a swipe of lip gloss, and I'm ready. I find Bob in the great room.

"Your mom is still deciding what to wear."

She's always been indecisive about clothes. And men.

"Be careful walking to the beach or park by yourself. I think someone is watching the house. Being an ex-cop I notice details others don't. There was a van sitting across the street, and a strange truck two doors down. I called a couple of cop buddies, and there's nothing going down in this neighborhood."

"Why would anyone want to case your house?"

"Don't know, Ana, but it's best to be cautious."

The country club is near the house. The heat of the day has dissipated, and a gentle, steady land breeze soothes me. I imagine walking beside the sea with Christian on a balmy, tranquil evening like this. Christian holding my hand. Christian telling me about his day. Christian's hair ruffled by the wind.

We exchange pleasantries over plates of surf 'n turf. Mom and Bob share their recent Caribbean cruise experience, and their plans for Christmas in Italy.

There's a small jazz combo with a female singer, and I enjoy watching Mom and Bob dance. Yes, even with Bob's broken foot, he's able to dance. Apparently he's also been hitting the putting green. He surely could have attended commencement.

Mom and Bob seem content with each other, and that is a blessing.

I truly do love my mother and I care for her happiness. Dad once told me, "Love your mother as much as she'll allow you, Annie." Some people have a limited capacity for love, and Mom is one of them.

There were moments, upon first getting to know Christian, when I wondered if he was like my mother. But Christian has proved himself to have a deep heart, full and loving.

"Care to dance?" A handsome preppy blond extends a hand to me.

"No, thanks. I have a boyfriend, and he's my only dance partner."

I'm telling the man to get lost, but he plops himself into the empty chair next to me.

"Rick Risher. And you are?"

"Ana Steele."

"Bob's stepdaughter?"

"Yes."

"You have a lesson with me tomorrow. I'm the pro here. Graduated from Wake Forest last year. I'm giving pro golf a try for a couple more years. If it doesn't work out, I'll go to law school, and join my dad's firm."

There's something cocky about this guy. He's irritating. Maybe I just miss Christian too much.

"With the dancing and all that sun, I'm tired," Mom huffs, breathless. "Ready to go, Ana?" My mother leans against Bob, and she does appear exhausted. I suspect our verbal sparring this afternoon contributed to her fatigue.

"I'm tired, too. Nice meeting you, Rick."

"Tomorrow, Ana."

XXXXXXX

It's a bit past 9pm when we return home, which means it's just past 10 am Sunday in Taiwan. There are two texts from Christian.

 **Miss you. Skype. Now.**

 **Where are you? Need you. Now.**

Christian's demand for immediacy makes me grin. I'm dying to talk to him, but I want to get comfy first.

 **Was at dinner w/Mom and Bob. Miss you too. Going for a shower now. Give me 20 mins.**

I rush through my shower and hit the ends of my hair with a curling iron. I put on lip gloss and a bit of blush.

Hoping for a bit of cyber-sex, I dig through the lingerie Christian sent. Choosing a black set, I remember Kate's instructions to put the panties on over the garter belt. She explained how men like to peel off the panties, and fuck with the garter belt and stockings on. I don't have any heels to wear with this, but maybe stocking feet will be okay.

The soft ping of the laptop has me tingling with anticipation. I'm about to see my man.

I click the button to answer Christian's Skype call, and in an instant, he's there.

"Hi, baby."

"Hi. Thank you for the roses. They're beautiful, and so fragrant." I turn the laptop so Christian can see the flowers. "The card was ever so sweet. You're very good at hearts and flowers."

"I'm learning. Glad you like them. Tell me about your day."

"Went to the beach this morning with my mother, then we came back to the house and hung out. Bob took us to dinner at his club. What have you been doing?"

"We hit the ground running yesterday and had a couple of meetings."

"On a Saturday?"

"Yes, the Taiwanese work long hours. At least a partial day on Saturdays."

"But you have today off?"

"Yes."

"Anything fun planned?"

"Ros and I let everyone sleep in this morning. We'll meet up with the team this afternoon, and prep for the coming week. I just have to ask. What are you wearing? That looks like my grandmother's bathrobe."

"It's my mom's." I'm surprised she has anything this conservative. It's a pink chenille robe. She's letting me borrow it for my visit.

"I sent lingerie. Why aren't you wearing it?"

"Who says I'm not?"

"Shit, baby, show me the goods."

"Don't you wanna talk first?"

"We've been talking, and we'll talk some more. I need to see you."

"Okay, but I want to see you too. Take everything off except your briefs."

"Bossy, aren't we?"

"I learned from the best."

I watch Christian pull off his long sleeved t-shirt, then his jeans.

"Socks, too, I like your sexy feet."

"My feet are sexy?"

"Every square inch of you is sexy."

I slowly open the robe and pull it down over my shoulders.

"Oh, shit, that looks even better than I'd imagined. Ditch the robe."

Christian's hand is down his briefs and he's stroking his dick.

"Baby, touch yourself. Talk dirty."

Okay. Here goes nothing.

This feels awkward. I need Christian next to me.

I slide my fingers inside my panties.

"Mmmm. I miss you so much. I miss your magic tongue. I want your tongue circling my sweet spot, your tongue dipping in and out of my pussy. See how wet I am."

I spread my legs and scoot down, so Christian has a close-up of my crotch and the damp spot on my panties.

"I'm moving my finger in and out, but it can't get the job done. I can't get off without your big throbbing dick. I need you, Christian. I need your dick and your tongue."

I slip off the panties and spread my legs wide, exposing all.

"Shit, baby. I want to be inside that."

Christian's briefs are gone, and his fully erect penis is on display. It's so beautiful. He strokes himself with increasing speed.

"I want you inside me, bare, nothing between us. Skin against skin. Your hot cum inside me."

I reach back and undo the bra, letting it slowly fall over my shoulders.

The bra falls away. I pinch my nipples and throw my head back, recalling how it feels when Christian plays with my tits. He licks, nips, and suckles them in the most delicious way.

"You make me come, just playing with my tits. Remember when you fucked my tits? Do you want to come on my tits or in my wet pussy?"

I turn around and bend over, my ass to the camera. I wiggle it a little bit. I can hear Christian's breathing become more labored.

"Or would you rather take me from behind?"

"Oh, shit, baby…Uhhhhh…Uhhhhh."

I turn back, just in time to see Christian ejaculate. There's semen on his hand and chest. He's panting. Christian never comes this quickly when we're together. Mom's assertion that men are simple-minded, visual creatures may have merit.

"Did that feel good? I wish I could clean you up. I'd lick all the cum off your chest."

His haphephobia! It was thoughtless of me to say anything about his chest.

"I'd like that. Maybe one day soon. Flynn is working on a treatment plan."

Surprisingly, Christian doesn't seem negatively affected by what I've said.

"That's wonderful. I'd like to help, if it's appropriate."

"Of course. But you should know something."

"What's that?"

"Even if you never put your hands on my chest or back, you've already touched me in ways no one else ever has, or ever will. You have a knack for discovering all my tender spots and touching them in all the right ways."

Of all the lovely things he's said to me, I do believe this might be the loveliest.

"Oh, Christian, I should be there with you. I should have gone to Taiwan with you, even if only for a couple of nights."

"Is something wrong? I can change your ticket or send a private plane for you. I don't want you unhappy."

Of course, Christian wants to snap his fingers and make things better.

"Everything's fine. It's my mother. She's selfish. She cheated on my dad, on our family. She's always run roughshod over my feelings. I thought I could change my relationship with her, but that's never going to happen. I have to accept it, move forward."

"I'm sorry. You never told me about your mother."

"It's not important. My problems are small."

"In comparison to mine, you mean?"

"In comparison to anyone's. I have a great life, and you're a huge part of that."

"I love you. I'm here for you."

"I know, and I thank God for you every day."

"You never came."

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted to watch you get yourself off."

"I need you next to me for that. Or maybe I need to buy myself a vibrator."

"No to the vibrator. All your orgasms belong to me."

"Yes, sir. All my orgasms belong to you."

 **Sunday, May 29, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

I've slept well, and I wake to the aroma of coffee and bacon. My mother has made pancakes for Bob and me. She never cooked breakfast, when I visited before. This is a treat.

Bob has planned an outing at his club. It's a golf lesson for me and the putting green for him.

Rick is waiting for us in the pro shop, and he greets me brightly.

"Great to see you, Ana."

Jeans aren't exactly golf attire, but it's all I have. I feel self-conscious. I'm the World's Biggest Klutz and I'm taking a golf lesson.

Rick leads me to an area near Bob and the putting green.

"This club should be the right size for you. Have you played before?"

"No."

"A golf virgin. I like it. I promise to be gentle." Rick winks.

I roll my eyes at his little joke, and give him a tight smile.

"You have a boyfriend. I haven't forgotten."

"Thank you."

Rick explains the rudiments of the game, and demonstrates how to grip the club and address the ball. When my stance needs correction, he stands behind me with his arms and hands wrapped over mine. As soon as I tell him I'm uncomfortable, he backs off.

I play two holes of golf, surprising myself with how straight and true I'm able to hit the ball. I have very little power, but Rick assures me that a bit of work on my core will fix the problem. As it turns out, Rick is an excellent instructor.

The lesson ends up being a positive experience overall, and Bob makes arrangements for another lesson tomorrow morning.

As Bob and I walk to the clubhouse to meet up with some of his buddies, my phone rings. It's Christian.

"Hi. Isn't it time for you to get ready for bed?"

"Yes, but I won't be getting any sleep."

Christian is angry. He sounds as if he's speaking through clenched teeth.

"Hold on just a second." I tell Bob to go ahead, that I'll catch up with him in a minute.

 **Christian**

I hear Anastasia telling someone to go ahead, that she'll catch up. It better not be that golf pro fucker.

"Why won't you sleep? What's wrong?"

"You don't know? Think hard, Anastasia. Maybe you can figure it out."

"I really don't have a clue, but I'm guessing it has something to do with me."

"Bingo."

"Well, tell me then. We made a promise to always speak openly with one another."

"Where are you?"

"At Bob's club."

"What are you doing there?"

"Just finished a golf lesson, and I'm about to have iced tea with Bob and his friends. I sent Bob ahead, so you and I can have privacy."

"Do you like golf? Did you enjoy your lesson?"

"Yes, more than I expected."

"If you want lessons, I will provide them. You should not be taking lessons from an unvetted source."

"Bob knows the pro very well, so I wouldn't describe him as unvetted."

"And how well do you know the pro, Anastasia?"

"What are you implying?"

"I'm not _implying_ anything. I have photographs."

"What?"

"Photographs of the pro with his arms around you."

"Holy shit! It was YOU! Bob said the house was being watched. How dare you! Did your spy offer details? How that image in the photo lasted little more than a second? How I told Rick I was uncomfortable? I don't think I've ever been angrier or more hurt than I am right now."

I've never heard Anastasia like this before, not even when we discussed the contract. She's furious with me. A heavy, sinking sensation pulls at my gut.

"Did you think I'd let you go all the way across the continent, and not provide security?"

"Security or a private eye? There's a difference. And neither one should have been here. No, this isn't going to work between us."

She's breaking up with me. No, no, no.

"Anastasia, I'm sorry. Please don't leave me. Please."

Once again, I find myself in the position of begging.

"You can't treat me this way. Ever. It's unacceptable."

Doesn't she see? I only want to protect her from predators.

"You're everything to me. You're mine, and I mean to keep you safe."

"Yes, I'm yours, but I'm in charge of myself. I agreed to a CPO in Seattle, because I saw the need. I never agreed to have someone spy on me and report back to you. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you. I just don't trust other people, like José and this golf pro."

"No. You don't trust me. You don't trust my intelligence. You don't trust me to know my limitations. When I'm in over my head, I'll ask you, Sawyer, or Taylor for help. You must respect my judgment."

She has no idea what's she's asking of me.

"You're asking me to give up control. I need to know you're safe."

"I know this is difficult for you. But this is…what's your term? A hard limit. This is a non-negotiable, hard limit. If you choose us, you must also choose trust."

"I trust you, but I'm afraid you'll meet someone else, someone normal."

"Who's normal? I don't know any 'normal' people."

"I feel normal, when I'm with you. You didn't know that, did you? When I'm in your company, for the first time in my life, I feel normal. I feel like a regular guy."

I hear a gasp, from my girl. I think I've made her cry.

"Oh, shit, baby, please don't cry. I didn't mean to make you sad."

"These are joyful tears. You're my one and only. Can't you see that?"

"But I come with a boatload of baggage. Other men are easier to love."

"Nope, you're wrong."

" _Forbes_ and _Business Week_ labeled me a genius. I can't be wrong."

"Sorry, but not sorry. You're wrong. I've been a boring, mousy, dateless, twenty-one-year-old virginal bookworm, so I require a hot, Dominant, emotionally constipated, haphephobic control freak."

Anastasia's description of us makes me laugh.

"I'm an extraordinary girl, so I need an extraordinary guy."

"We can agree on that, baby. You are extraordinary."

"It's good to hear you laugh. You don't laugh enough. You need a funny girlfriend."

"You're plenty funny. I've laughed more in the past twenty-five days, than in all my twenty-seven years."

She's sniffling, but I don't think she's crying anymore. She speaks softly, hesitantly.

"Christian…what if I had someone sneaking around, spying on you, taking photos, reporting back to me? How would you feel?"

"Disrespected."

"Would you feel loved?"

"No."

"You haven't lost my trust yet, but you will, if you do this again."

"I promise I won't do it again. No spying. No reports. Baby, please forgive me."

"Forgiven."

"I'm worried," I confess in a whisper.

"About what?"

"I just found you. I don't want to lose you."

"And I don't want to lose you. I've got my own insecurities."

Her confession surprises me.

"Like what, baby?"

"I'm afraid of not being enough for you."

She's referring to BDSM. Shit. What will she think when she sees the playroom?

"I hate this physical separation. If you were in my arms, I'd make certain you felt secure."

"You always do. When you hold me, all is right with the world."

"Never, ever doubt my love for you. I need to hear you say it, baby."

"I swear it. I'll never doubt your love. Will you do the same? Take an oath?"

"I will never doubt your love, Anastasia. Your love is everything."

"It should become your mantra. ' _I will not doubt Ana's love.'_ We should take up meditation and daily affirmations. It might make us healthier. Close your eyes."

"Okay. Eyes closed."

"Imagine us in your glider. We're mid-air, no landing strip in sight, no choice but to allow the winds to guide us. You'll dip the wings and I'll follow. Sometimes I'll ask you to change course. There may be times when neither of us knows which direction to take. Neither of us knows where we're going, or the obstacles ahead, but we have our love and faith in each other."

She's telling me we can do this.

Together.

Is it a realizable dream? Could we ever feel as secure in our union as she describes-trusting each other, trusting the unknown, trusting that whatever comes, we'll get through it together?

"We'll be okay?"

"We have to be."

"I've never shared soaring with anyone. I can't wait to get you in a glider, baby. I'll give up control, and let you have the stick."

"What if that's not the stick I want?"

"You already control _that_ stick."

As always Anastasia's laughter raises my spirits.

"I hope so."

"Baby, I think I'll always need a sense of control."

"You're probably right," she concedes.

"Can you live with that?"

"I don't know. I also have a need for control, though it's nothing like yours."

"Your need for control isn't pathological and all-consuming? Baby, it's okay. I know I'm a nutjob."

"Hey, don't call my boyfriend names. You can exercise all the control you want at Grey House. But know this one thing to be true. You will never control me. And deep down, I don't think you want to. You like me pushing back, when you step too far. It's the same with me. You push me to try new things, consider new ideas, and I like that."

"You aren't breaking up with me?"

I need to hear it. I need to hear her say she's not leaving me.

"No, I'm not breaking up with you. Ever. Unless trust becomes an issue."

Message sent. Message received.

"Because once trust is gone, you can't get it back."

"Yep. I have the smartest boyfriend in the universe."

Oh, how I love this woman.


	18. Brave

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 18**

 **Brave**

 **Monday, May 31, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

Jubilation. Exultation. Joy.

I'm back in Seattle. I'm home. I'll spend my first night in the new apartment.

Kate and Elliot left yesterday for Barbados. Just before their departure, they sent a selfie to me and all the Greys. It's an adorable shot of them with their passports. I've missed my Bug, and the apartment will feel strange without her.

I took the red eye again. It's a little past 7 am. As I head to baggage claim to meet up with Sawyer, my phone rings.

Mia.

"Welcome back. I thought we could have breakfast together."

"I need to freshen up at home, then head to KKAV to sign the paperwork for my new job. Maybe lunch would work better."

"Okay. Text me. I'll be downtown."

"Miss Steele," Sawyer greets me.

"Sawyer, you and I need to get some things straight. Mr. Grey and I have worked out the boundaries of this security arrangement. You'll call me Ana. I'll follow your lead and do as asked of me when it comes to security, but you will not report my movements or other personal business to Mr. Grey. Do we understand each other?"

"But, Miss Steele…I mean, Ana. My job requires me to report your whereabouts to Taylor. He's my boss."

"No. Absolutely not. Taylor will report everything to Mr. Grey. That won't work. I realize it's very late in Taiwan, but please get Taylor on the phone for me."

Sawyer looks stricken. He hesitantly pulls out his phone.

"Boss, Miss Steele would like to speak to you."

Sawyer reluctantly hands me the phone.

"Hi, Taylor, it's Ana Steele. How are you?"

"Fine, Miss Steele. What might I do for you?"

"It's Ana. Did Mr. Grey tell you the conditions we agreed upon for security?"

"No, ma'am. We haven't had that discussion."

"I agreed to Sawyer as a CPO, but Sawyer is never to discuss my movements with you or Mr. Grey. If I discover he's spying on me, I'll kick Sawyer's ass to the curb. I'm sure you can deduce where Mr. Grey's ass will also land."

"Yes, ma'am." Taylor chuckles at my reference to Christian.

"Please call me Ana, not 'Miss Steele' or 'ma'am.' I'm not big on formality."

"Yes, Ana."

"Please tell Mr. Grey of our conversation."

"Yes, Ana."

"Thanks, Taylor. I appreciate your help. I'll hand the phone back to Sawyer."

As Sawyer finishes up with Taylor, I text Christian.

 **Safe and sound in Seattle. Sawyer picked me up. Going to apt, then KKAV.**

 **Thx. Was hoping to hear from you or Sawyer.**

 **No reports from Sawyer. Remember?**

 **Yes. I remember. Old habits die hard.**

 **Get some sleep. After KKAV, I'm lunching with Mia, then home for nap. Skype later?**

 **No Skype. Sorry.**

 **I love you. I miss you.**

 **Love and miss you more, my Ana.**

No Skype? I thought we were falling into a happy routine. Oh, well, Christian has so many more demands on his time than I do.

Sawyer watches television, while I shower and get ready for the station. I'm only going in to sign some paperwork so I dress casually, jeans, tee, blazer, scarf, and flats.

Personnel is on the first floor. I'm presented with a folder of forms: W-2, W-4, I-9, insurance, and health assessment. Yes, I can lift objects weighing twenty pounds.

There's an emergency contact form, asking for three contacts in case of emergency. Kate's a no-brainer to go in the first spot. Dad's two hours away, but that's close enough. Should I list Christian for my third ICE? He's so keen on privacy. I shouldn't go spreading his number around.

Mia lives in the area. I text and ask for permission to list her as an emergency contact. She responds immediately.

 **I'm honored to be your ICE**.

Kate and I have both grown close to Mia, and she has attained sister status.

While I was away in Georgia, Mia seemed to intuitively understand I needed a pick-me-up. She sent several texts and videos, all charming, cute, and very Mia.

On Friday, she sent a frowny selfie from the DMV line, where she was getting her license replaced after losing it.

On Saturday morning there was a video of a laughing Mia, holding up one of her brand new Tory Burch ballet flats, which was smeared in dog shit. Later that afternoon, she sent a pic of a colorful display of macarons from Le Panier in Pike Place.

Mia is entertaining, stylish, and affectionate. What's not to love?

When I take my paperwork back to the young woman behind the counter, she hands me a post-it.

 _Leo Verling, 3rd floor, go right, last door on left._

"What's this?"

"Your new boss. He wants to meet you."

I find Leo Verling's office. The door is wide open and a bald man in glasses is arguing with an elegant dark-haired woman.

"No." The man takes off his glasses and tosses them onto the desk. "We both serve at the pleasure of the station manager. Until something changes, I take my direction from him."

"With the reorganization and new concepts I'm supposed to implement, I need help. Surely you can pull someone, even if just for a couple of hours per day."

The forty-something man rubs his face in frustration, looking a bit disheveled in his rumpled polo shirt.

The thirtyish woman stands up to him confidently. She is stylishly dressed in a simple, elegant gray knit dress.

"You're asking for a personal assistant. No, diva. Not happening."

"Looks like you have company, Leo." The woman smiles at me in welcome. "Come in. I was just leaving."

I step inside the small office.

"I'm Ana Steele, new hire, starting tomorrow morning. I'm looking for Mr. Verling."

"I'm Bandi Chopra. Lovely to meet you. What will you be doing here at the station?"

"I'm not really sure."

"Leo Verling." The man nods at me. "Good to meet you, Ana. Where have you worked previously?"

"Clayton's Hardware, Portland."

"Hardware? Why did they hire a computer specialist?"

"Computer specialist?"

"Isn't that what you are?"

"No." Mr. Verling looks as confused as I am.

"Clayton's _Hardware_?"

"Hammers and nails, not computers."

"Jesus, that's even worse. Why are you here? What did you do before selling hammers?"

"Pet sitting, babysitting." I wish the floor would swallow me up.

"Christ on a cracker." Leo slams his fist on his desk. "No wonder this station is in the toilet. Who the fuck hired you?"

"Papa K."

"And who the fuck is Papa and why the fuck am I the one who gets stuck with you?"

What a cold, unfeeling jerk. Yes, I'm young and unexperienced, but everyone has to start somewhere.

"Leo, I'll take her. I can train her. She'll be perfect." Bandi doesn't think I'm so bad. That's a heartening turn of events.

"Not so fast, hot stuff," Verling snaps at Bandi. He turns to me, "Who hired you, and why?"

"Papa K hired me, so I can gain experience in the field of media and communications."

"What qualifications would make Papa Smurf think you belong in a goddamn television station?"

"I just graduated summa cum laude from Wash State-Vancouver with an English degree and a certificate in editing and publishing. Papa K thinks I can write and edit news copy."

"Well, listen to that, Bandi. Little girl thinks highly of herself, doesn't she? Next week she'll be running the newsroom."

"She's perfect, Leo. Please let me have her. She's green and trainable."

I just love the way these two talk about me as if I'm not here.

"And who's Papa? Is he one of those assholes in Redmond?"

"Not an asshole, but yes, he's at corporate headquarters in Redmond."

"Give me the dickwad's name, so I can rip him a new one."

"Are you really going to call him?"

"Yes."

"May I stick around to listen?" I want to hear what Papa K will say to this angry, sweary man.

"May I listen, too?" Bandi winks at me conspiratorially.

"Why not?" Mr. Verling wears his confidence well.

"I'll have to give you his cell, because he's on vacation. Why don't you use my phone and put the call on speaker?"

"Fine. What's Papa's proper name?"

"Eamon."

"First or last?"

"His first name is Eamon. His last name is Kavanagh."

Bandi doubles over in laughter. Verling is still processing what I've said.

"Kavanagh?"

"Yes. Eamon Kavanagh. The man who signs your paycheck."

"Well, fuck me sideways with a chainsaw. He's a relative of yours?"

"Not a blood relation. He and his wife have sort of adopted me into their family."

"I suppose you'll get on the phone and tell him about this encounter."

"No, that's not my style. I've no desire to make your life more difficult than it already is. Sounds like you need help. I'm not spoiled, nor do I feel entitled. I'm very adaptable. I'll clean toilets, if that's what you need. I kept the toilets at the hardware store spotless."

Mr. Verling returns my smile.

"I apologize for making you feel unwelcome." His tone is soft and conciliatory.

"What if Eamon Kavanagh wasn't my friend? Would you apologize?"

"Maybe. Eventually." The rosy hue of his cheeks hints at embarrassment. Perhaps Mr. Verling has feelings after all.

"After hell froze over, Ana. That's why you should ask your Papa K if you can come work for me."

"I'll let you and Mr. Verling work that out. What do you do here at the station, Bandi?"

"I'm host of _The Buzz_. Occasionally we tape the show, but most days it broadcasts live from eleven 'til noon. Have you seen the show?"

"Sorry to say I haven't. I'm new to Seattle, and know very little about the station or the area. I've visited the Kavanaghs in Redmond and my boyfriend is from here, but those are my only connections to Seattle."

" _The Buzz_ is the perfect vehicle for learning about the area. It's a lifestyle and entertainment talk show featuring all things Seattle and Pacific Northwest. Where did you grow up?"

"Montesano."

"Small town girl." Bandi appraises me.

"Yes. Did you grow up in Seattle?"

"Until I went away to UCLA. I stayed in LA for a bit, then San Francisco, and now I'm back in Seattle."

Bandi's about Elliot's age, and went to UCLA. I wonder if they've met.

"Do you know Elliot Grey?"

"Yes. We graduated from Seattle Prep together, and attended UCLA. When I was about sixteen, I had a huge crush on him. How do you know Elliot?"

"He's dating my best friend." I leave out the part about Elliot being my boyfriend's brother.

"She must be blonde."

"Yes." I giggle at her assumption. Elliot's preferences are known far and wide.

"Elliot does have a type. Is he still a manwhore?"

She DID NOT just ask me that. The woman has moxie.

"He's rehabilitated, I do believe."

"Good for him. Good for your friend. It was wonderful meeting you, Ana."

"You, too."

"See you tomorrow morning. Leo, we'll talk more this afternoon."

Mr. Verling taps his pen against the edge of his desk.

"I take my coffee black. First thing we'll do is get you trained up on the editing software. Report to me at 5 am. As for work attire, jeans are fine. You'll need comfortable shoes. Be ready for anything and everything."

"Yes, sir."

No goodbye from Mr. Verling. He turns away and fixes his eyes on the computer screen, and that's my cue to leave.

I text Sawyer to let him know I'm ready to meet Mia, and I forward the address she sent me. It's nice to leave the parking, driving, and navigation to someone else. I'm becoming spoiled.

I also text Christian, but get no reply. It's bedtime in Taiwan. Oh, how my body longs for his.

Mia's love for all things French has led us to Café Presse. She insists the roast chicken for two is completely fabulous, and I acquiesce, despite the small detail that we must allow an hour for it to cook.

I tell her about my new job, and Mia is horrified by the idea of reporting to work each morning at 5 am. When I explain an hour for brunch and a quitting time of 2 pm, she seems to understand it's not so bad.

"Oh, my God. Ana, there's a Google alert. It's you and Christian, and something about Elliot. There are photos attached. Look."

 **Google Alert: Christian Grey.**

 **Seattle Nooz, May 31, 2011: Just when we thought Christian Grey batted for the other team, we've learned he has an interest in the fairer sex. It's been reported, and now we've confirmed it. Grey aggressively grabbed one of the female graduates and kissed her on the lips at the WSU-V commencement last week. The object of Grey's forceful affection is identified as Anastasia Steele, 21. The Nooz has obtained exclusive photographs of that event.**

 **We also have much, much more. Word on the street says the Grey brothers, Christian, 27, and Elliot, 31, like 'em young. On Wednesday, May 25** **th** **, the brothers were spotted at Rogue Hall on the campus of Portland State.**

 **A witness, who partied with the Greys at Rogue, has come forward to tell us Christian appeared to doctor the drink of a Wazzu coed. After the young woman passed out, our witness overheard Christian say he had plans for her in his hotel room. Grey carried her to his waiting car. Rohypnol, anyone? The alleged victim bears a strong resemblance to the young woman in the commencement photos. See the action unfold here in more of our exclusive photos.**

 **In addition, our witness observed older brother, Elliot Grey, plying a coed with alcohol, and subsequently taking her home. The coed, Katherine Kavanagh, is at least a full decade his junior. Kavanagh was overheard saying, "No, Elliot, don't do that. I don't care about your blue balls."**

 **It appears neither brother understands the concept of mutual consent. Perhaps their father, attorney Carrick Grey, should provide his sons with a legal lesson and a refresher of Respect 101.**

 **As always, the Nooz is on the prowl. Follow us as we report on all things Seattle.**

There are photos attached. Christian kissing me at graduation, me being carried out of Rogue in Christian's arms, and there's a shot of Elliot standing behind Kate with his arms around her.

Greedy, vindictive Levi! He's behind this.

"Is there some way to stop these Nooz vultures? I'll text Christian. Can you text Elliot and Kate? I'm not sure they've seen this."

My fingers stumble over my phone keyboard. I have to retype, because I'm not making sense. My hands are shaking.

There's no response from Christian, so I know he must be sleeping. Thank goodness. At least one of us can sleep through this mess.

Sawyer is a few tables away, sipping on what looks like green tea. I get his attention and he's Johnny-on-the-spot.

"When something slanderous is printed, is there some sort of protocol? Does Mr. Grey have someone who handles this sort of thing?"

"Not sure. Maybe the PR folks at GEH? We should be able to get in touch with Taylor and Mr. Grey this evening."

Mia puts her hand on mine.

"Don't worry. I'll call Dad. He'll know what to do."

Mia steps outside to call Carrick.

I decide to call Levi.

He answers on the second ring.

"What do you want, Ana?"

"I want to know why. What have any of us done to you? Why are you trying to ruin Christian? Saying he tampered with my drink, implying he raped me?"

"You have your payday in the form of Christian Grey, so I don't know why you're bellyaching. I watched you prance around José, you little prick tease. You used him, and then tossed him aside for money. And rich-bitch-whore Kate used me, and took up with the other Richie Rich. Neither of you deserve any consideration."

"You're delusional. José and I are friends, and we're in a good place. You and Kate had a casual arrangement. You were never in any kind of romantic relationship. Both of you were free to do whatever to whomever."

"What would you know about Kate and me? Just in case nobody's ever told you, you're boring as fuck. People only speak to you, because you're Kate's friend."

"What's happened to you? You're better than this, Levi. Didn't Christian make an offer for those photos you sold to the Nooz?"

"Yes, and it was considerably more than what I got from the Nooz. But it wasn't just the money for me. I want to watch all of you suffer. Why should you walk away with a happy ending?"

"Have a nice life, Levi."

I text José, Becca, and Travis, sending them the Nooz link.

 **B: Literally and figuratively, I always knew he wasn't worth a fuck. Feeling terrible for you and Kate. Let me know if I can help in any way.**

 **J: Travis and I threw Levi's shit into the front yard, changed the locks. Travis feels awful and so do I, Ana. Levi stole some of my photos of you and Kate. I filed a police report.**

"Dad says not to worry. He's contacted Christian's personal attorney. If it becomes necessary, Dad's firm will represent you, Kate, and Elliot. Pro bono, so don't worry about legal fees. There's already a letter to Seattle Nooz threatening defamation lawsuits, if they don't print a retraction within the next twenty-four hours."

I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing Carrick has covered all the bases.

My phone rings, and I know I look disappointed when I check it.

"It's KKAV. I was hoping it was Christian." Mia looks at me sympathetically.

"Ana Steele."

"Hello, Ana. It's Bandi Chopra. Do you have a minute?"

"I guess so. What's up?"

"Your name is connected to a story about Christian and Elliot Grey. I assume it's you, because you asked if I knew Elliot. What's your connection to Christian Grey?"

"That's personal."

"I'm asking, because I want to help you. I'd like to offer my show as a vehicle to air your side of the story. Did Christian Grey sexually assault you?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Ana, I'm leaving the station in a couple of hours. Could we meet?"

"Christian and I are private people. I don't want to discuss our relationship."

"Please, Ana. I think I can help you. Could we talk?"

"Fine. Can you come to my apartment at four?"

"That works. I pulled your address off your employment records. Union Street?" Bandi shares stalkery traits with a certain billionaire.

"Yes. See you soon." I put my phone down, and I can't believe how quickly this day has gone to hell.

Our food is delivered. It's delicious, but I can't eat more than a few bites.

"How about I spend the night? Keep you company?"

"I'd like that. You can sit with me, while I talk to Bandi. I think she wants to do a story about the Nooz article. You can help me turn her down."

"It might not be a bad idea to get ahead of the Nooz. Tell your side of what happened."

"Maybe, but I'm uncomfortable with any kind of public attention. I hope Bandi doesn't stay long. I need to get my clothes in order, go to bed early, get up at four. It's too bad I'm not a morning person by nature."

"Let's get a doggie bag for this chicken. Home. A nap will make you feel so much better."

XXXXXXX

I open my eyes in response to Mia's insistent shaking.

"Ana, I just buzzed in Bandi Chopra. Sawyer is waiting for her at the door. C'mon, sleepyhead, nap is over."

"Are my clothes okay?"

I look down at my yoga pants and Christian's t-shirt.

"You're fine. Just run a brush through your hair."

When I go out to the living room, I see Luke handing Bandi's driver's license back to her. She doesn't seem irritated, but Luke's presence must be a surprise.

"A CPO, Ana? I never would have guessed." Surely she's figured out a CPO is Christian's doing.

"My boyfriend is very protective. I guess you've met Luke Sawyer. And this is my friend, Mia Grey."

"It's a pleasure."

"Let's have a seat. I'd like Mia and Luke to join us."

"Terrific. Let me cut to the chase. The Nooz story implies you were sexually assaulted, and over the phone you told me you weren't. I want you to come on my show tomorrow, and tell your side of the story."

"Are we off the record right now?"

"Of course."

"And do I have your word that everything we discuss is confidential?"

"Absolutely."

"The story was sold by a former friend. Levi had a relationship with Kate Kavanagh, and he's quite jealous of Elliot. He also resents the Greys for having money."

"The Kavanagh family is loaded. He didn't resent Kate?"

"Not while he and Kate were involved. Levi's resentment began when Kate met Elliot. She told Levi she didn't want to see him any more."

"On their website, the Nooz has the video of Kate insistently telling Elliot, 'No, don't do that. I don't care about your blue balls.' Both Kate and Elliot appear intoxicated. It sounds like he was trying to push her into sex."

"I was there," Mia speaks up. "I saw and heard everything. El was trying to feed Kate some Blue Balls, but she wasn't hungry."

"Blue balls?" I just have to ask.

"Meatballs with blue cheese."

"And what about the accusation that Christian Grey tampered with your drink?"

"Christian would never do something like that. That's ridiculous. I was the designated driver, so I was drinking soda."

"Any idea why this Levi fellow felt he could get away with the suggestion you were roofied?"

"No. And I know nothing about rohypnol, but why would anyone believe I was drugged? I was perfectly alert the next day at commencement. The photos show that."

"Any idea why you passed out?"

"Exhaustion. The bar got crowded and I felt overheated. I passed out, but I came around before we left Rogue."

"Did you willingly spend the night with Christian Grey in his hotel room?"

"Yes, I don't think it's a crime to spend the night with one's boyfriend."

"Of course not. I'm just trying to piece everything together. The Nooz publishes a lot of stupid crap, but they do try to protect themselves from libel charges. I'd think they would be particularly careful when dealing with Christian Grey. I'd like to meet him. Any chance he'll stop by soon?"

"He's on a business trip. Taiwan. Won't be back for a couple of weeks."

"Oh. That must make this Nooz story even more difficult. What does he say about it?"

"With the time difference, I haven't been able to speak to him. He's probably eating breakfast about now, so I don't know if he's had a chance to check his phone."

Mia and I exchange knowing glances. Christian should have called by now.

"Will you consider doing an interview tomorrow morning? It'll be less than ten minutes."

"I'll consider it. I'll need to consult with Christian. What's the deadline for my decision?"

"Can you let me know first thing tomorrow morning?"

"Sure."

"Thanks, Ana."

As soon as Bandi leaves, Mia retreats to the kitchen to put together a pizza using the leftover chicken. I corner Sawyer.

"Tell me why I haven't heard from Christian. I know you can't wipe your rear without Taylor's say-so. Tell me where they are."

"Out of cell range."

"They're not in Taiwan, are they? Taiwan has one of the highest population densities in the world, and there's probably a cell tower every other block. Where are they?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No."

"What do you know? Are they safe?"

"I don't have any reason to believe they aren't safe. I just don't know exactly where they are."

"Well, where are they _un_ -exactly?"

"I dunno. I think they want to keep their location secret."

"Fine." I'll try Christian's phone after dinner.

My appetite doesn't return, and after a few bites, I determine it's time to call Papa K.

"Ana, how are you? We miss our fifth Kavanagh."

"If I were in Barbados right now, I'd be the fifth wheel. Are Kate and Elliot loved up enough, and is Ethan finding enough action in the clubs?"

I'm rewarded with a booming laugh from Papa K.

"Oh, darlin', you definitely know your Kavanagh siblings. What can I do for you? Is this about the pariah known as Seattle Nooz?"

"Yes. Bandi Chopra wants me to clear the air on her show tomorrow. What do you advise?"

"Bandi is the best at what she does. I'm surprised she hasn't been snapped up for national syndication. Ana, I think it's a fine idea."

"What if she asks about Kate and Elliot?"

"Tell the truth. Kate told me she and Elliot were talking about meatballs when the video was shot."

"Yes, Levi took the video and sold out to the Nooz. You know Christian would never spike anyone's drink."

"Of course. And that's why you need to put the rumors to rest."

"With the time difference, I haven't been able to speak to Christian about it, and I won't proceed without his consent. This affects him more than anyone."

"For a relationship novice, you have a good head. Christian's a lucky man to have such a respectful partner."

"You and Mama K have been good examples."

"We learned. Eventually."

"You've been so good to me. I love you both very much."

"And we love you."

Will there be legal repercussions if I go on the air? Carrick offered free legal advice, and this directly concerns Christian.

The phone doesn't even ring, and I'm startled when I hear, "Grey Residence."

It's not Grace or Carrick. Housekeeper, perhaps?

"May I please speak to Mr. Grey? This is Ana Steele."

"Just a moment. I'll see if he's available."

It doesn't take long for Carrick to reach the phone.

"Ana, it's so good to hear from you. What can I do for you?"

"It's about the Nooz article. There's a reporter at KKAV…Bandi Chopra…she wants to interview me, to clear the air, get the real story out. Papa K says this reporter is first rate, but I wonder if there are any legal ramifications to going on air."

"Mia told me the kid who sold out is, or was, a friend. I'd refrain from calling him out by name. Other than that, just tell the truth, and all should be well. Have you spoken to Christian about this?"

"Here's the thing…I can't get in touch with him. It's very strange, and I'm a bit worried."

"Hmmm. I can understand that, but worry is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but you never get anywhere. My mother used to say that all the time."

"I'll try to remember that, especially since I've fallen hopelessly in love with your son. I do a lot more worrying now."

Carrick laughs, but there is pain beneath it.

"Welcome to the Grey family, Ana. Grace and I understand your situation."

"The show is _The Buzz_. Are you familiar with it? Eleven each weekday morning."

"I've seen it. So an interview tomorrow morning?"

"Possibly."

"I'll tell Grace."

"Give her my best. I hope we can have lunch soon."

"Of course. Please, Ana, call me anytime."

"Thanks, Carrick."

When I hang up, I text Christian again.

 **Where are you? I need to hear your voice.**

I lay out my clothes for tomorrow, including the plum dress and the brown Louboutins. I'm exhausted, and it's time to hit the sack.

 **Tuesday, June 1, 2011**

 **Christian**

Sawyer buzzes me in and opens the front door. I'm not thrilled he's spending the night here, but apparently Anastasia insisted.

"Your sister is in Miss Kavanagh's room, I'm in the brother's room, and that's Miss Steele's room."

Sawyer points to a door.

This apartment is much more spacious than the place in Vancouver.

It's nothing like Escala, but it's warm, comfortable. I wonder what Anastasia will think of the penthouse. And the playroom. No one's opinion has ever mattered before.

For the entire thirteen hours of flight from Taiwan, I've anticipated this moment. I turn the knob to her room. Before I can make out her shape, I hear her soft snores.

I toe off my shoes and slip out of my clothes.

I'm bare-assed naked, and already hard with anticipation. I hope she's willing, because I need this.

I climb in beside her. She's kicked off the covers, and curled herself into a ball. What the hell is she wearing? I've given her lingerie, but this is…it's my boxer briefs and t-shirt. I think she's missed me. Oh, fuck she's so sweet, so sexy.

I press up against her back and slip my arms around her.

Sublime.

I nuzzle and kiss her neck. I whisper her name and tell her how much I love her.

She stirs and rolls over.

"Cwissss-chun?"

"Yes, baby, it's me."

She wakes slowly, struggling to focus.

"How?"

"I missed you. I needed you."

"That's why I couldn't reach you."

"Yes."

"Oh, crap, have you heard about the Seattle Nooz story?"

"Yes. Those little piss-ants are nothing to worry about. I'll unleash my lawyers and PR people."

"You don't think we need to publicly denounce the story?"

"Not unless it would make you feel better."

"I guess there's no need then. When I checked in at my new job, I met Bandi Chopra, the host of The Buzz…it's a morning show…anyway, she invited me on her show tomorrow, well technically today. She's offering an opportunity to tell what really happened."

"Do you trust her?"

"I don't know her well, but I like her. Papa K hired her, and he thinks highly of her, so there's no reason why she shouldn't be trustworthy. I told her I wouldn't do the show without talking to you first."

"Thank you." Anastasia understands me, and my need for control.

"If there's no need, I won't worry about this anymore."

"There really is no need to worry, but I'm a bit disappointed you won't be going on air talking about me."

I'd like to show her off. I want to tell the world. She's mine.

"Do you think the public is ready to hear about my sexy as fuck boyfriend and all the filthy things he knows how to do?"

I'm propped up on an elbow, with a hand on her warm, silken belly.

"Hmm, maybe not. What filthy things would you like me to do right now?"

"You're the one who flew halfway around the world. I'd say this round is Boyfriend's Choice."

"Okay, I'm going to play with your body and then fuck the hell out of you, hard and fast."

"Do you have condoms?"

"Dammit. No."

"Let me sneak into Kate's room and see if she has any."

A couple of minutes later, Anastasia returns, giggling softly, and waving a box of condoms.

I pull Ana on top of me, then flip her onto her belly, eliciting squeals of surprise and delight. I yank off the boxer briefs, and knead her ass cheeks. She moans lowly and contentedly. Yep, my girl has missed me.

Straddling her, I put my cock between her legs and rub it against her vulva. Shit, she's already wet.

I slide my cock inside her, and hold myself up on my elbows, so I won't crush her. I kiss her neck, as I slowly rock in and out of her. If I don't stop, I'll soon come.

Our bodies have been apart for mere days, but it's felt like a lifetime. Gently rolling Ana onto her back, I find her mouth and relive the delicious sensation of her kisses. Using my mouth, I reacquaint myself with every inch of her body, pausing to whisper my fondness for each and every part.

Anastasia writhes and thrashes, begging for a release. I'm at her service, always aiming to please.

"What do you want, baby?"

"You, inside me."

"Your wish is my command."

I start off slowly with long strokes and the grinding that I know she enjoys. As I build speed, I hear her breathing change. She draws in deep soul-drenching drafts, and then I feel it. Anastasia's body stiffens, her walls clenching my dick so hard, I lose control. I shudder and with one final thrust, I empty myself.

I empty myself of worry, tension, stress.

I fill myself with Anastasia's scent, warmth, comfort.

"Better?"

"Yes, baby, I needed that."

"Did you come home just for a fuck? I'm ever so flattered, Mr. Grey."

She's giggling and running her hands up and down my arms. It feels so relaxing, so right, so normal.

"I came home because I missed you. Baby, that fuck was the cherry atop the sundae." I kiss her nose, and pull her closer.

"You've missed me, but there's something else behind the timing."

"I also came home to close out my history with Elena. The audit starts in a few hours."

"How long will the audit take?"

"Today we'll gather records, assess the business, and interview employees. But an audit takes weeks, months, to complete. I'd love to catch Elena at something, but that might take a while. Tomorrow I'll meet with her and terminate our partnership."

"Does she know about this yet?"

"She only knows she's meeting with my attorney tomorrow. I hadn't planned on attending the meeting, but staying away felt cowardly. As long as I have you, baby, I can be brave, and face all the shit in my past."

"I'm here for you. I love you."

"You're what's keeping me together right now."

"We should sleep. I have to get up at 4 am."

"I think we should do that interview. Together."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Let's just put it all out there. You have a CPO now. Taylor checked out Kavanagh's building security, and he seems to think it's sufficient."

"You investigated Kavanagh Media's security?"

"Of course. I can't allow you to work in an unsafe environment."

"You can't _allow_? Who's in control of Ana?" She chides playfully, while stroking my forearm. Shit, that feels so comforting.

"You are. Of course, you may work wherever you wish. That came out wrong. I just need to know you're safe. If Taylor had determined the situation to be dangerous, you and I would have discussed solutions."

"Nice tap dancing, Mr. Grey. You're learning."

Yes, I am.

"What time should I be there for the interview?"

"If the broadcast is at eleven, then make sure you're there a half hour early. If I find out something different, I'll text you. I thought I'd wear the plum dress. Do you think that's okay?"

"You look beautiful in anything, but yes, that dress would be perfect."

"Sleep, my darling."

" _My darling_. Oh, baby, I like that."

XXXXXXX

I've just fallen asleep when Anastasia's alarm goes off. I pull on yesterday's briefs, and find my bag in the tiny foyer. I share scrambled eggs and toast with my girl. She's dressed in jeans, a button down, and Nikes.

"Leo, my boss, told me to dress for comfort."

I need to meet this boss of hers. He probably just wants to ogle her ass in those jeans.

Anastasia insists on walking to work, and I insist on escorting her. Sawyer carries the garment bag, which holds her interview clothes.

She checks in, and gets her new employee ID badge. Sawyer and I sign in as Anastasia's guests. She wants to introduce us to her boss, and explain that Sawyer is her CPO.

When we reach the third floor, Anastasia leads us to her boss's office. She knocks, and a gruff voice tells us to enter.

"Good morning, Mr. Verling."

"Where's my black coffee?"

"I'll get on that right away, but first I want you to meet my CPO."

"What the hell is a CPO?"

"I'm Luke Sawyer. Close Protection Officer. A bodyguard."

"Hello, Luke Sawyer. Ana, why the fuck do you need a bodyguard?"

"Mr. Verling, I'd like to introduce my boyfriend, Christian Grey."

"THE Christian Grey?"

'Yes, and that's exactly why Anastasia needs a CPO."

"Fuck me drunk in a snowstorm. First it's Eamon Kavanagh, and now it's Christian Grey. Is there anyone else I should know about?"

"No, sir, you know almost everyone in my life now. Bandi came to see me yesterday, and she invited me on her show today. You're my boss, so I'm asking for permission."

"I don't suppose there's any way to say no. Go ahead and do it, but I can't be making all kinds of exceptions for you, Ana."

"No exceptions expected or needed. I'd like to be treated just like everyone else."

"Fine. Then go get my coffee."

"Yes, sir. Black."

"Nice to meet you, Grey. Does the bodyguard follow Ana around all day?"

"Ana doesn't want that. But Sawyer will need an ID and access to the entire building. Please check with Eamon Kavanagh, if there's a problem."

Verling lets out a big sigh.

"Fine."

Sawyer and I go for a ten mile run, and when we return to the apartment, Mia is up.

"Christian!" She throws her arms around my neck and gives me a quick hug. "What are you doing home so early?"

"I need to take care of business with Elena. I'll return to Taiwan in a couple of days."

"What's going on? I haven't seen or spoken to Elena since you asked us to stay away."

"Good." I'm alone with Mia, and this is the perfect time to ask if Elena has ever hurt her.

"Want some breakfast?"

"No, just juice and coffee."

"Coming up."

"Mia, I need to ask you something about Elena. About growing up with Elena around?"

"Okay."

"Did Elena ever hit you or kiss you? Kiss you in a sexual way?"

"No! What the hell?"

"Good. It's something I've worried about."

"Why would you worry about that? Chrissy, what are you not telling me? That bitch hurt you, didn't she?"

Mia will find out sooner or later.

"Yes. Elena hurt me."

Mia is hyperventilating.

"Tell me. What did she do? She hit you and kissed you?"

"Yes."

"What else?"

"She committed statutory rape."

"I'll fucking kill that bitch!" Mia's fists are balled and her eyes are filled with tears. She's trembling.

"Leave her to me. I'm breaking ties with her. Getting rid of the salons."

"Who knows about this? I'm always the last to know."

"Anastasia, my lawyer, John Flynn. And now you."

"Mom and Dad…shit. This will break their hearts."

Mia uses her sleeve to wipe away tears.

"I know, Mia. I know. I'll have to tell them soon."

"Thank you for telling me. I'm flattered you feel you can trust me."

"Why would I not trust my baby sister? The one who got me to say my first word as a Grey."

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen. And it went on until I was twenty-one."

"There's more to this story, isn't there?"

"Yes, but I'm not ready to go there yet."

"Okay. I'm here for you. I love you."

XXXXXXX

Roy Carlton keeps me apprised of the audit efforts. Things are going smoothly at all four salons. Elena is at the Bravern location. Initially she kicked up a fuss, demanding to speak to me. She has since calmed down, and is trying to appear helpful.

I'm back at the station, looking for my girl. I'm directed to a studio on the fourth floor, and at last I see her, a vision in plum. Those glorious chestnut locks are curled at the ends. Anastasia has makeup on, something I'm not accustomed to seeing. It's a case of gilding the lily.

"Hello, my darling man." She stands on tiptoe, whispers in my ear, and it goes straight to my dick. "You look so handsome."

"And you look lovely. Whose idea was the makeup?"

"Bandi insisted on it. She did the makeup herself. She'll do yours as well. Come, let me introduce you."

I know which one is Bandi Chopra, before Ana can introduce her. She's tall, elegant, and very attractive. She also shares the aggressive, ball busting qualities of Katherine Kavanagh. Media produces a type, and it's not my type.

"Christian Grey. It's a pleasure to meet you. Follow me, please. Let's get your makeup on."

Anastasia has my hand, and she leads me into a tiny dressing room. This must be Miss Chopra's because the walls are plastered with photos, framed articles, and reviews from past ventures.

She directs me to a stool, and begins a light application of foundation, a bit of bronzer, and then powder. I've endured this many times over the past few years.

"You need lip balm, Mr. Grey. Do you have any?" She inquires.

"No."

"I do." Anastasia digs through her tote, producing a small white tube. She kisses me softly, and gently applies a clear coat of something with a minty taste and scent. Miss Chopra studies us.

"Ana, would you take Mr. Grey back on set? We air in ten minutes."

As we return to set, I feel Anastasia's body tremble.

"Don't be frightened, baby. I'm here. Together the two of us are brave. Invincible."

"I can't do this without you. You're used to all the attention. Is it wrong of me to hate it?"

"I hated it, too, in the beginning. I still don't like it. I've grown accustomed to it, however, and so will you."

"This isn't me."

"Maybe not, but it can become part of you. I'll hold your hand the entire time, and when you get nervous, look at me."

"I'm so thankful you're here."

I kiss her forehead, and pull her to me.

 **Anastasia**

It feels like forever, but we've probably been on air for less than two minutes.

"Was it love at first sight?"

"Yes." Christian and I answer in unison.

"You two are adorable. I watched you before the interview, and there's great tenderness between you. Christian, how did you know you were in love with Ana?"

He bristles at Bandi calling him by his first name. No one would notice this except me, because Christian smoothly moves past it.

"I'd never been in love before, so my feelings were new. It took me a few days to figure out what I was experiencing." Christian squeezes my hand. "When we're together, Anastasia and I become something different, a third entity, something greater than what we are as individuals. When I recognized the magic of our synergy, I knew we had something special."

"You truly are a man in love. This is a side of you the public has never seen."

"Anastasia and I endeavor to keep our personal lives private. We're here today for two reasons. The first is to put a stop to spurious rumors. The second is to let the public know Anastasia and I are in a committed relationship. Knowing the nature of our relationship should prevent speculation."

"Ana, please respond to the recent Seattle Nooz item implying Christian assaulted you."

"Christian would never hurt me, and the suggestion he put rohypnol in my drink is ridiculous."

"Tell me about that evening. What prompted you to pass out?"

"It was the night before commencement. We were out with a group of friends. I'd been working long hours, finishing up projects, presenting my thesis, packing up to move to Seattle. I was exhausted. I passed out."

"Had you been drinking?"

"No alcohol, only soda."

"And Christian took you back to his hotel?"

"Yes, he took care of me."

"I bet he did." Bandi winks at the camera. I've never seen _The Buzz_ before, but I've watched Wendy Williams, and they have a similar attitude. "What is the age difference between the two of you?"

"Not quite six years." Christian beams at me as he answers.

"And your brother, Elliot, is dating Kate Kavanagh?"

"Yes."

"What's the age difference between them?"

"Nine and a half years. I don't know why anyone would have a problem with that," Christian challenges.

"There's a video clip on the Nooz website. Kate says something about Elliot's blue balls. What is that about?"

"The Rogue menu has meatballs with blue cheese, and they're called Blue Balls. While my brother does have a ribald, sophomoric sense of humor, he was simply offering Miss Kavanagh an appetizer."

"Let's see those shots of the two of you from graduation. Ah, yes, that's quite a kiss. Ana, were you surprised by that?"

"Yes, but I shouldn't have been. Christian does sweet, romantic things all the time."

"So not only is he the most beautiful and sexiest man alive, he is the most thoughtful?"

"Yes, he's very protective and affectionate."

"How did these rumors get started?"

"A former friend was at our table the night we were at Rogue. The graduation photos we just viewed were stolen by this former friend. The photos rightfully belong to José Rodriguez, an artist and photographer, and should be attributed to him. José has filed a police report in connection with the stolen photographs. This former friend is jealous of the Greys. He started the rumors, and sold the story to the Seattle Nooz."

"Christian, being in the public eye, does this sort of thing happen often?"

"Unfortunately it does. It's just another day in my life, but this is all very new for Anastasia."

"How are you holding up, Ana?"

"With Christian's support, I can weather anything."

"You two are such a beautiful, loving couple. Thank you for visiting _The Buzz_. We'll be right back with Chef Nathan Lockwood of Altura."

"Thanks, you two. I know you were nervous, Ana, but it went well."

"Thank you, Miss Chopra." Christian extends his hand.

"Thanks, Bandi. I'll talk to you later." She pulls me in for a little hug.

I haven't let go of Christian, and I pull him out to the elevator.

"Would you like to see the video editing bay? That's where I'm training."

"Sure, but can't we go to lunch first?"

"Sorry, but I have to take brunch from ten until eleven. Today most of my meal time got taken up with preparation for the interview."

"You haven't eaten?"

"No, but I get off at two. I'll eat when I get home."

"I'll wait for you. We'll eat together."

"Yes, my darling."

"Shit, that sweet talk of yours goes straight to my cock."

The elevator doors open, and we're alone, even if it's just for one floor.

"Two o'clock can't get here quickly enough."

I lean into him, and his phone rings, just when I thought I was going to steal an elevator kiss.

He checks the number, and I can't tell if he's happy excited or nervous excited.

He puts his phone on speaker and holds it between us.

"Grey."

"Mr. Grey, this is Marvella Silver. I'm calling from the Mercer Island location. Is there any way you could come speak to the salon manager? Sir, I believe we have something on Mrs. Lincoln."

"Thank you. I'll be right there."

The elevator doors have opened, but I still get my kiss. And it's from a very hopeful, very happy man.


	19. One Door Closes

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 19**

 **One Door Closes**

 **Tuesday, June 1, 2011**

 **Christian**

With lunch hour traffic, the travel time to Mercer Island from downtown is almost a half hour.

I text Elliot.

 **C: You available? Need to ask something important. Now.**

 **E: Gimme a minute. You do know Barbados is the birthplace of rum?**

Exactly two minutes later, my phone rings.

"Bro, what's so urgent? You've never sent me a message like this before."

"Are you alone?" I don't want the inquisitive Miss Kavanagh to overhear.

"Yes. Taking a leak outside a bar. John Moore's. It's rustic, and so hip, it hurts."

"Finished? I can't talk while you're pissing."

"Just giving it a shake. What's up?"

"Jesus. If crass and crude were commodities, you'd have the market cornered."

"You're jealous. I'm free spirited, and you're not." Elliot says this in jest, having no idea how true his statement is.

"Where do I start?"

"The beginning would be nice. Why do you sound so fucking stressed, and what can I say to make you feel better?"

"I need a couple of answers. Remember I asked you to stop talking to Elena?"

"Yes, and I can proudly say I've kept my promise."

"I'm terminating my business and personal relationship with her. I need to know if Elena ever initiated any kind of relationship with you."

"I don't have the kind of money you do, and I can't imagine Elena would be interested in the construction business. Though I suppose she'd enjoy fucking some of my employees."

"I'm not talking about business. The fucking…did Elena ever try with you?"

"In high school, but I told the bitch to back off. She's barely spoken to me since, which works for me."

"That's what I need to know. Thanks."

"Wait. Did she try something with you?"

"Yes."

"Damn. I've had too much booze for this conversation. Or maybe not enough. Have you been fucking her?"

"I had a relationship with her, but it's in the past. It ended not long after I left Harvard."

"Wha…When did it start?"

"Three months after my fifteenth birthday."

"Shit…fifteen." I hear Elliot let loose a whoosh of air. "That bitch broke the law."

Even Elliot, the libertine, immediately recognizes sexual abuse. It took me twelve years.

"Yes, but it's taken me a while to understand."

"Ana?"

"Yes."

"Bro, we hit the jackpot that day at Grey House."

"Yes, we did. I take it things are going well with Katherine."

"Better than I ever imagined. Kate is gorgeous, funny, brilliant." El lowers his voice to a whisper. "And she can suck chrome off a trailer hitch."

"That's quite an endorsement." And way too much information.

"She's perfect. I'll propose when we get back to Seattle. I need to figure out where and when."

"No time like the present. If you're ready, why not do it now?"

"Dude, you know nothing about women. You can't propose on the fly. You have to put thought into it. Chicks want ambience and romance."

"You're right. I know nothing, which is why I fuck up a lot. Good thing Ana's the forgiving sort."

"She knows about Elena?"

"Yes. And I told Mia."

"Mom and Dad?"

"Tonight."

"Fuck…well, good luck. When I get home, we'll shoot the shit over some of your twenty-year-old Pappy's. Love you, bro."

I miss Elliot. He always lightens the mood, brings down the intensity of what I'm feeling. He and Anastasia are alike that way.

"You, too, Lell."

I need Flynn.

He answers after the first ring.

"Still in Taiwan?"

"No, I came back to deal with Elena. It would be cowardly of me to leave it to lawyers. I need to make the break sooner, rather than later."

"Still having a hard time?"

"Pangs of guilt. Then I'm raging with anger. Other times I'm almost nostalgic. It's quite unsettling. I know what needs to be done, but I don't want to do it. Traumatic bonding?"

"Yes. Stay focused."

"Easier said than done."

"It always is. Sorry, if I'm not being helpful."

'You are. I can't speak to anyone else about this."

"Not Anastasia?"

"No. My thoughts are dark. Complicated. I don't want her having second thoughts, possibly leaving me."

"Maybe you aren't giving her enough credit."

"Perhaps not. She continues to surprise me. She handled the television interview well. I shouldn't have exposed her publicly at commencement, then again with the interview. It was rash and imprudent of me. Her identity is public now, and I worry that I've left her vulnerable from a security standpoint. But I'm selfish, and I want the world to know she's mine."

"You have security assigned to her?"

"Yes, and she seems to accept having a CPO, though she kicked up a fuss at having someone report to me about her whereabouts. She felt spied upon."

"It's important to fully respect her boundaries."

"I'm learning."

"Do you want to see me?"

"That's why I'm calling. I told Mia a little bit about Elena's abuse. I want to tell my parents tonight. Get it over with. I think I'll ask them over to Ana's for dinner. Mia will be there."

"Do you want me to come over?"

"Please. I'll text the address and time."

"I'll be ready."

I no sooner hang up with Flynn, and Cleve Anderson is calling me. I wonder about his location. Bravern? I know Marvella and Roy are traveling from salon to salon.

"Cleve, what've you got?"

"Marvella says you're on your way to Mercer. I'm heading back to Grey House. Are you stopping by your office this afternoon, or heading straight home?"

I could use an afternoon nap with Anastasia, but I should check in at Grey House.

"I'm coming in for a bit. I'll see you this afternoon."

Taylor pulls up in front of the attractive brick strip mall, which I own. The salon sits in the middle. I've been here exactly once. It was three years ago at the grand opening. Elena and I cut the ribbon together. The memory makes me queasy.

Marvella Silver greets me at the door. She's always friendly, yet keeps a professional distance. It's a quality I appreciate in my employees.

"Mr. Grey, I want you to meet the salon manager, Vivian Lassiter." The manager is tall, slim, attractive.

"Christian Grey. Did you need to speak to me, Miss Lassiter?"

"It's Mrs. Lassiter. Mrs. Silver says you aren't like Mrs. Lincoln describes you, so I guess it's okay to tell you."

I nod to encourage her to continue.

"Hair is the only thing I know. I'm really good at it, but there aren't many options. When Mrs. Lincoln hired me, this job was an answered prayer. My husband worked construction, for your brother actually, and he died in a pile up on 405."

"I'm sorry for your loss. You have children?"

"Just one. A four-year-old son. I've managed a salon before, but nothing like this one. Not only is this salon in a prime location, but Mrs. Lincoln offered free booth rental, so I could continue to do hair. She also offered health and dental under the GEH umbrella, a manager's salary, a 401K, professional development, and two weeks paid vacation."

"But there are problems?"

"Yes. The continuing education has been non-existent. Franco, at Post Alley, pays out of pocket to attend workshops and hair shows. Sometimes I visit, and he shares what he's learned, but that doesn't substitute for real professional development."

I look to Marvella for answers.

"Aren't there funds budgeted for pro development? I'm certain that's a budgeted line item."

"Yes, sir, it's budgeted, but those monies are going somewhere else, because we see no evidence of any continuing education being provided to employees."

Shit. Elena really is skimming off the top. But why? There should be no need, as I provide well for her.

"I get the feeling there's more." I look to Mrs. Lassiter. She takes a deep breath.

"Yes, sir. My friend, Anita, told me I should keep up with my 401K. I don't know about such things, but when I checked my account, there was little more than one hundred dollars in it. I asked Mrs. Lincoln about it. She told me the account fluctuated in value, and not to worry about it."

"Did you pursue things further?"

"I let it go for a while. Then I did more research, and realized something was very wrong. I questioned Mrs. Lincoln, and she told me to drop the subject. If I kept on about it, she'd tell you, and I'd lose my job. She said you're powerful, and you'd fix it so I'd never work again."

"She threatened you?"

"Yes. She knows I need this job."

"I see. Would you mind putting all of this in writing? Get a couple of your employees to witness it. I'll send around a notary. Mrs. Silver will bring the affidavit to Grey House. I personally promise to fully fund your 401K. Any monies owed you will be repaid. I apologize for any anguish caused by Mrs. Lincoln. She does not represent my values or the values of GEH."

"Thank you, Mr. Grey."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

Mrs. Lassiter leaves me with Marvella.

"Mr. Grey, tampering with a 401K is a federal offense. If she did this to Mrs. Lassiter, there may be others. I've been to the Edmonds shop, but the 401K subject was never broached. I'll certainly investigate."

When the salons started up, I insisted salon managers have an excellent benefit package. The hairdressers and technicians are self-employed, and rent space in the salons, but the salon managers, receptionists, and janitorial staff are employees, should be compensated fairly, and rewarded for good performance.

As I leave the salon, I call Mia. "Could you coordinate with Anastasia to see if it's okay to invite the folks over for dinner? If she gives the okay, could you call Mother and Dad? I need to speak to them face-to-face."

"Does this have anything to do with Elena?"

"Yes, I'm going to tell them about the abuse. I need you and Ana there. Flynn is also stopping by."

"This will break their hearts."

"Yes, but it must be done. Ana needs her sleep, so I want an early evening. Can you pick up some carry out? I don't want any stress or fuss."

"Sure. If I'm dreading this, I can only imagine how you feel."

"I need to get this behind me."

Cleve must have had someone alert him to my arrival, because as soon as I step off my private elevator, he's there.

"You've been waiting for me. What's going on?"

Cleve follows me into my office, and shuts the door behind us.

"I want to touch base before tomorrow's meeting. What are your expectations for an outcome? Best case scenario?"

"Prison time. Many years."

"We've already discussed the statute of limitations running out on the sex abuse. If you had reported it, Mrs. Lincoln would have been charged with third degree rape, a Class C felony, and she would have served five years, maybe less. When she got out, she'd have to register as a sex offender."

"Are you trying to make me feel worse? Shit. My cowardice allowed her to get away with a horrible crime."

"I'm sorry. It's not my intent for you to feel guilt or shame. If we can get a federal conviction for the 401K issue, and get her on state embezzlement charges, it's possible she'll do more time than she ever would have for abusing you. Sadly, Washington is like most states in our union, and considers monetary theft more egregious than the theft of a child's innocence."

"What kind of time could she face, just with embezzlement?"

"I think she's looking at a ten-year maximum and a fine. She could work a deal, so we need to be proactive, and make sure your side is heard. I know a case where a woman was sentenced to three years, cut a deal, and only served six days. I'm telling you this, because I don't want you to get your hopes up, only to have them dashed."

"And the Feds? The 401K?"

"Embezzling from any employee benefit plan incurs a fine up to $250,000, up to five years in prison, or both. With Mrs. Lassiter's affidavit, we have enough to turn it over to the Feds for investigation. When do you want to contact the FBI and hand over our 401K documents?"

"As soon as I cut Elena loose tomorrow."

"We must complete the audit before we can proceed with local embezzlement charges."

"If two cases can be built against her, state and federal, perhaps some real prison time will result." If a five-year maximum is what she would've received for the sexual abuse, then I'll be thrilled if she receives five years for the embezzlement and 401K.

"If you have the stomach for it, don't forget my suggestion about filing a civil suit."

"What about the statute of limitations for a civil suit?"

"That's the beauty of going civil. Sometimes it takes years for a victim to make a connection between sexual abuse and the emotional harm that's been done. May I ask when and how you came to terms with Mrs. Lincoln's abuse?"

"I don't know that I've come to terms with it, but I fully recognize it now. Through Anastasia, I see what the abuse cost me. I see the harm. My psychiatrist has helped me realize how Elena manipulated me for twelve years."

"Though we've never discussed it in anything more than basic terms, in my role as your attorney, I know about the NDAs, the agreements for consensual sex. Were these arrangements a coping mechanism for something Mrs. Lincoln did to you?"

"Yes. I have no intention of ever having another such arrangement. As long as I have Anastasia, those days are over."

"In a civil suit, we have to prove that relationships have suffered as a result of the abuse. These contractual arrangements would serve as proof. You could recover some monetary damages, and financially hamstring Mrs. Lincoln."

"I don't want any of my past becoming public knowledge, so let's put the civil suit on a back burner. Let's see how this audit shakes out."

"When do you head back to Taiwan?"

"Tomorrow evening." I don't want to leave Anastasia, but Ros and I are negotiating several alternative energy contracts, as well as completing the port deal.

"See you in the morning. Don't stress over this." Cleve speaks gently, expressing concern. I'm as stressed as he's ever seen me.

XXXXXXX

It's after five when I get to Anastasia's. Mother and Dad haven't been here long, and they're catching up on news of Ana's job. The mood is convivial. Mother, Mia, and Ana are enjoying some kind of white wine. Dad is drinking beer, and directs me to the fridge.

Mia sent out for salmon dinners from Matt's on the Market. The table is set, and by five thirty we sit down to eat.

I share what I know about Elliot's upcoming proposal to Kate. Everyone seems pleased about the proposal and impressed that I'm so plugged into Elliot's plans. I've already discussed the proposal with Anastasia and Mia, but it's news to Mother and Dad.

Mother is beside herself, talking about weddings.

"Ana, tell me about the wedding dresses Dana designed for you and Kate."

Anastasia has a wedding dress? For some reason, this doesn't sit well with me.

"They're absolutely beautiful. Both are ivory. Kate's is a ball gown. She looks like a princess. It's strapless with a sweetheart neckline and tiny covered buttons down the back. It's organza with Alencon lace. Just beautiful."

"And yours?" Mother leans forward in anticipation.

"Ana can't talk about her dress in front of Christian." Mia puts her hands on her hips, challenging me to leave the room.

"Why not?" I ask. I don't want to think of Anastasia getting married, but I'll always want to know about her life, her thoughts, her comings and goings.

"It's bad luck for the groom to know anything about the dress." I hear the tap of Mia's foot. She's annoyed, because I won't budge.

"Christian is a confirmed bachelor, so discussing my dress isn't a problem. It's gorgeous. Lace. Off the shoulder with fitted sleeves, a trumpet skirt. Kate and I wore our dresses in a couple of bridal shows, here in Seattle and in Portland."

"Both dresses sound lovely." Mom sounds wistful.

"You and Christian aren't getting married?" Mia shoots me a puzzled look, confused by my lack of relationship goals.

Anastasia shakes her head matter-of-factly. There's no sadness, just acceptance. She accepts every facet of me, and she loves me.

My heart bursts at the wonder of it.

"Mia, don't look so disappointed. You and I will always be friends. If and when I do get married, a bazillion years from now, you'll come, won't you?"

"Sure." Mia looks at Ana sadly. "I've hoped you and Kate would both officially become my sisters."

"We're already sisters. We don't need anything official."

"You two act like I'm not even here." I pout, knowing how that affects Ana, and needing to stop this silly conversation about weddings and sisters-in-law.

"Sorry," Anastasia offers, leaning her head onto my shoulder. I pull my chair closer, and wrap my arm around her shoulder. "You know how it is when we girls get talking. Oh, I almost forgot…José texted to let us know Levi has been charged with the theft of his photographs."

"Good news. The Seattle Nooz offered a nice retraction and apology. My PR folks tell me the feedback from the interview has been positive."

"I've heard only compliments from my colleagues about the interview. You two are such an attractive, engaging couple."

"Thank you, Grace. Bandi's thrilled with the reaction. The interview got picked up and replayed by dozens of other outlets. Kate says they viewed it in Barbados. Not only does Christian's handsome face sell magazines, but also sells air time."

"How about dessert? Mom? Dad? We have cheesecake or fruit compote." Mia knows I need to be alone with our parents.

"Sounds great. Coffee, too, if you have it. Tea, Gracie?" Mother nods at Dad.

Mia and Anastasia retreat to the kitchen. It's my cue to begin The Talk. Flynn should be here soon.

"Let's move to the sofas. We need to discuss what's going on with Elena. I'm terminating my business partnership with her tomorrow."

"Darling, I can't believe Elena would steal anything, much less money from company coffers."

"Well, believe it, Mother. It happened."

"She's well-fixed. Why would she do that?"

"After her divorce, Elena wasn't left with much."

"How can that be? She lives so well."

"Elena lives well, because I support her."

"What! Why?"

Mia returns, taking a seat next to Mother. Mia knows what's coming, and prepares to comfort our parents.

"She made me feel I owed her. Elena is the one who loaned me the hundred grand to start the business. I've paid her back many times over, but…it's complicated."

There's a knock at the door. Mia gets up and opens the door to Flynn.

"Thanks for coming, John. How did you get in?"

"A building resident was leaving and held the door for me."

"Shit. Anastasia has no security in this place. Come have a seat."

"John, it's wonderful to see you." Dad is on his feet.

"Thanks, Carrick. Grace, it's been a while. So good to see you both."

Mia produces a tray with coffee. She holds out a cup to John.

"Thank you, Mia." He turns back to my parents. "I'm here at Christian's request."

My parents look from John to me. They are anxious and confused.

"I have something important to share with you, and I thought John could help explain some things."

Ana brings in dessert.

"Hello. I'm Ana Steele." She puts down the dessert tray, and offers her hand to John.

"John Flynn. I've looked forward to meeting you. It's a pleasure." John appraises Anastasia with admiration, and holds her hand a few beats too long.

She's mine. All mine.

"Dessert?" Anastasia smiles broadly at John.

"The cheesecake looks terrific. Thank you." He's not talking about cheesecake. Shit, John is crushing on my girl.

"Let's get comfortable, shall we? I was just telling my parents about ending my partnership with Elena."

"Go on, son. Your mother and I want to know more about what Elena has done."

"Elena's been skimming money from the salons. I'm a silent partner. Cleve insisted on that from the beginning. He knew I wasn't very enthused about the salon business."

"Why did you partner in salons, if it didn't interest you?"

"My history with Elena made it difficult to say no."

"Because she loaned you start up money?"

"No, Mother, there's more to it than that."

"Well?"

"Elena seduced me when I was fifteen. We had a sexual relationship for six years."

"No! No!" Mother's eyes bore into mine, imploring me to tell her it isn't true. "No!"

Dad fists his hair, rises from his seat, and commences pacing.

"As much as I'd like to change the past, I can't."

Mia holds Mother, who sobs loudly. I've never seen my parents like this. It's as if someone has died. Anastasia holds my left hand in hers, turning it over and over again, soothing me.

"How?" Dad demands. "I want to know how the fuck this happened?"

"It began the day you sent me over to clean up the Lincolns' yard. Elena slapped me, then kissed me deeply on the mouth. It was my first kiss. Heady stuff for a fifteen-year-old."

"She slapped you. Kissed you. You didn't think you should tell us?" Dad's voice is loud and accusatory.

"Elena said you wouldn't believe me, and I wanted more of whatever she was offering."

"Goddammit. The statute of limitations has run out."

"I know, Dad. I've explored every option with Cleve. There's more to this. Could you just listen? I need to get it all out."

"Sure," Dad whispers. "Go ahead."

"Because of my haphephobia, I didn't see how I could ever have sex. Elena showed me ways I could enjoy sex without fear of touch. She introduced me to BDSM. I became her submissive, and this continued for six years. Whenever I excelled, she rewarded me. When I was disrespectful at home, or did something that displeased her, Elena punished me."

"BDSM? Bondage and sado-masochism?" Mia eyes me with alarm. I never told her this part of my history.

"Disrespectful at home? How did she know what happened at home?" Dad is confused. Didn't he know the extent of Mother's confidence in Elena?

"Oh, my God. I gave Elena everything she needed to abuse you. I confided in her about your issues. I talked about you all the time." Mother takes in a deep breath, and lets out a wail.

It's gut wrenching to hear, to see. My strong, beautiful mother is falling apart in front of me.

"After she gave me the loan to start up GEH, Elena and I switched roles. She became my submissive, and trained me to become a Dom. After a few months, I began visiting clubs and practicing with experienced submissives. Then I began contracting submissive women who would come to my apartment on a regular basis."

"Why bondage? Why would that appeal to you?" This is Dad's way of trying to find out the particulars of my sex life.

"I could restrain my partners. Control how and when they touched me." There's more to it than that, but perhaps this explanation will satisfy them.

"Ana, how do you fit into this?" Dad better not say anything offensive to my girl, or the gloves come off.

"I don't fit into it. Christian and I have a very run-of-the-mill relationship." I'd hardly call our sex life ordinary, and I hope Anastasia doesn't feel that way. I think she's trying to make my parents feel better.

"No BDSM?" Really Dad? I'm speechless, but Anastasia isn't.

She rolls her eyes at Dad, cocks her head to the side, and clicks her tongue in irritation.

"I apologize, Ana," he says. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around all this."

"Christian slaps my ass and pulls my hair, but I hardly think that qualifies as BDSM." Anastasia is testy and irritable with my father. Her face turns red as she realizes she just talked about our sex life in front of my parents.

"What are your concerns at this point?" John addresses my parents. "What do you need to know from Christian?"

"Why didn't you come to us, tell us what was happening?" Dad isn't accusatory. He seems genuinely confused, and curious about my thought processes.

"Elena said you wouldn't believe me. She talked to Mother all the time, so I assumed it must be true. You were both so happy that I'd quit fighting and drinking. I was happy with Elena's attention. At the time, it all seemed like a win-win."

"Carrick, Grace, do you recall what was happening in the family while Christian was acting out?"

"Elliot had just left for UCLA. Mia's asthma flared up, and she was hospitalized a couple of times during that period. We were just a few months into starting Coping Together. Work was killing us. Christian's behavior issues sent us over the edge." Dad closes his eyes and tugs at his hair as he remembers.

"Lorna Stovall." Mother says the name so quietly I'm not sure I've heard.

"I told you there was nothing going on with her. Grace, someone fed you lies."

"What happened?" John prods.

"Someone told Grace I was at the Fairmont wining and dining Lorna Stovall, then checked into a room with her. It never happened. I had nothing more than a passing acquaintanceship with the woman."

"But this caused friction between you during the time Christian was acting out?"

"Yes. Grace wouldn't let it go."

"What made you think it was true? Carrick seems sincere in his denial."

"Oh, my God! It was Elena, who put the idea into my head. She swore they were together. Said she saw them at the Fairmont."

"Jesus, Grace, you trusted Elena's word over mine?"

"Dad, please don't be angry at Mother's mistake. Elena is extremely clever and highly manipulative." I fully understand how Mother could have been duped. I shouldn't be surprised that Elena would try to break up my parents' marriage.

"I confided in Elena." Mother lets out another sob. "I shared things I shouldn't have. I told her you hadn't touched me in weeks."

I could have lived without knowing about my parents' sex life. Are there no boundaries in this family?

"Jesus, Grace! I was fucking exhausted. Wrung out. It had nothing to do with another woman."

"I see that now. Because of my stupidity, Elena knew all the intimate details of our family. Just when Christian needed us most, Elena pitted us against each other. This is all my fault."

"Blame is non-productive. This is a time for the two of you to come together as a couple, for all of you to come together as a family." John's comforting voice redirects Mother.

"Did she hurt you, too?" Mother embraces Mia.

"No, Mom."

"Elliot told me Elena made a pass at him in high school, but he rebuffed her. I was her only victim." I need to prepare my family for all contingencies. "It's possible Elena surreptitiously took compromising photographs of me. While the audits were being conducted, my IT guys searched her computers. They found thousands of photographs. There's no evidence that she shared these photos, but I've retained a former sex crimes investigator to check out the photos."

"Is your expert looking specifically for photos of you?"

"Yes, and any photos of possible minors. Using the Tanner scale, ages can be estimated, and if there are any possible minors, we'll turn it over to the FBI. But if she took photos of me, I want the opportunity to cull those."

"Careful, son, you need to speak to Cleve about all this. You don't want to get into hot water for cyber-theft or tampering with evidence."

"Of course." I'll speak to Cleve, but I'll get rid of any photos first.

"I swear I'll kill the bitch. I could put my hands around her scrawny neck and wring the life out of her." Mother's voice is filled with resolve.

"Gracie, I feel the same way. But let's allow Christian's attorneys to handle everything. Cleve is top-notch."

Mother nods her head at Dad, and wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. She focuses her attention on my girl.

"Ana, how would you like to sit on the board of Coping Together? An opening has suddenly become available, and we need someone young and energetic."

"That's a splendid thought. What do you say?" Dad enthusiastically joins in.

Mother has a great idea. It seems fitting for Anastasia to replace Elena on the Coping Together board of trustees.

"May I think about it? Discuss it with Christian?"

"Of course, but at the gala we'd like to introduce you as the newest trustee."

"I'll let you know very soon. I promise."

"Very well." Mother smiles, and somehow I know we'll all be okay.

Anastasia says her good-nights to everyone, and heads off for bed. Together Mia and I see John, Mother, and Dad to the door. Emotions spill over again as we say good-bye. My parents tell me they love me, and assure me that nothing will ever change that.

I'm drained, but I need to be inside Anastasia. I know sleep is a near impossibility.

When I reach my beauty, she is out, softly sawing logs. She needs her sleep, so I watch her, until the rhythm of her breathing pulls me under.

 **Wednesday, June 2, 2011**

 **Christian**

" _Yes, ma'am, please. Please suck my cock." If she wants me to beg, I'll happily comply._

 _Elena pumps my dick with one hand and strokes my balls with the other._

" _You want to fuck my mouth? Tell me how much."_

" _More than anything. Please, ma'am." Mistress Elena has only put her mouth on my dick a couple of times, and it's the best feeling ever._

" _Straight A's on your report card should earn you something. Do not cum in my mouth. If you cum in my mouth, it will be the last time."_

" _Yes, ma'am. I promise not to cum in your mouth."_

 _With her thumb, she spreads pre-cum over the tip. She licks, then slowly covers my helmet with her mouth. Her tongue swirls over the tip. It's pure bliss, but I must control myself._

" _Who sucks your dick?"_

" _Only you, ma'am."_

 _But there is someone else. Shouldn't Anastasia be sucking my dick?_

 _I look up and there she is._

 _Anastasia._

 _I turn away._

 _I should tell Elena to stop, but it feels so good. I cum in Elena's mouth. I'll be punished for that._

 _I weep from fear that Anastasia is gone._

"Christian. Wake up. It's just a nightmare."

Anastasia is straddling me, holding my hands in hers.

"Wake up. You're safe."

"I need you."

"I'm here for you. Tell me what you want."

"Your mouth. I want to fuck your mouth."

Anastasia scoots down between my legs. I've been fellated countless times by countless women, but when Anastasia takes me into her warm, soft mouth, it's different. It's love, reverence, devotion.

She swallows my cum in one gulp, and crawls up to rest at my side.

"Thank you, baby."

"My pleasure." She giggles.

I stroke her hair, while she idly fingers my belly button.

"Do you want to tell me about the nightmare?"

"It's too upsetting."

"It might make you feel better," she says.

"At the expense of making you feel worse."

"You're mine. Your problems are my problems."

"You'll leave me, if I tell you."

"Puh-leeez. And, yes, Mr. Gray, I just rolled my eyes."

"You'll leave."

"I'll leave, if you withhold things from me. I'll leave you over lack of trust."

"Baby, you aren't going to like what I tell you."

"It was a nightmare. We have no control over dreams. It can't be that bad. Tell me."

"I was young and I was begging Elena for oral sex. She started to go down on me, and you popped into the dream. You saw us, but I wouldn't tell Elena to stop. I wanted it. I came in Elena's mouth."

"Well, you didn't take too much pleasure in it, because you were flailing around, crying out in misery. Do you want Elena? Are you still attracted to her?"

"Fuck no!"

"Then let it go. Maybe the dream represents the power she wielded for so long. Maybe it's an outlet for your anxiety over the meeting. You've told your family everything. There are no secrets, nothing Elena can hold over you. You have all the power now."

Anastasia has a way of distilling ideas, quickly finding the lowest common denominator. It's an extremely useful gift, good for both business and personal relationships. Damn Kavanagh Media. I wish Anastasia worked for me.

"You always make me feel better. Baby, I love you."

"I love you, too. When will you return from Taiwan?"

"The plan is to come back on the 9th or 10th. My parents are hosting the Coping Together gala on the 11th, and I always attend. I'll arrange a dress for you. Someone will come to my parents' house to do your hair. All you have to do is show up."

"Is this your way of asking me for a date?"

"Miss Steele, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to a gala on June 11th?"

"I'd be delighted to attend a gala with you. It will be my first."

"The first of many, I hope. I attend lots of fundraisers and business related events. I'd like you with me for every one."

"I'll clear my calendar." She giggles. Her soothing fingers trace circles across my belly.

Yes, I want her next to me always. I want to wake up next to her, share every meal.

"Move in with me."

Did I just say that out loud?

"What did you say?" Ana's fingers still. In the dark I can't tell if she's upset or just confused.

"Move in with me. Live with me."

"What are you saying? Kate and I are just getting settled."

"Don't worry about Katherine. She has Elliot. I need you more than she does."

"Living together is serious business, and I don't think my dad would approve so early in our relationship. I want Dad to know you better. Besides, it'll be fun taking turns sleeping over at each other's places."

"We should be together 24/7. I need to know you are safe. I need you next to me."

"That sounds like Total Power Exchange or whatever you called it."

"No, I don't want that. I want you beside me, as my companion, my lover."

"Let's think about it, and talk again when you return from Taiwan." I don't say a word, because if I do, this will not end well. "I heard that little huff, Mr. Grey, and your pouting is adorable. Please be patient with me. Whether I live with you or not, I'll love you with my whole heart."

XXXXXXX

Sawyer and I walk Anastasia to work, then take a ten mile run. I enjoy breakfast with Mia, gather my things from Anastasia's room, and go to Escala to pick up a few things and repack.

Gail is running the vacuum, and I startle her.

"Good morning, sir. I wasn't certain I'd see you. Jason explained you've been staying with your girlfriend." There's a twinkle in her eye, and I can see she's hoping for details.

"I came back for clothes. Anastasia washed a load with socks, underwear, t-shirts, and such, but I need a fresh suit and dress shirts."

"Of course, sir, I'll get right on it. Anastasia is such a pretty name."

Yep, Gail is on a fishing expedition.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

"Tell me about her, sir."

"She's perfect."

"What does she look like?"

"Didn't Taylor tell you?"

"No."

"Petite, long brown hair, blue eyes, pale flawless skin."

"I'm sure she's lovely," Gail says, sadness in her eyes.

She thinks Anastasia is like all the others.

"She's not a submissive. She's not a contract."

"Oh," Gail says hopefully. "I can't wait to meet her."

"Maybe in a couple of weeks."

"I look forward to it, sir." Has Gail ever smiled this broadly?

XXXXXXX

I'm in my office by nine.

The meeting with Elena is at one. I meet with my research and development team, then study the preliminary audit data. Andrea brings me lunch, but I tell her to stick it in the fridge. I have no appetite.

Taylor texts to alert me to Elena's arrival. I move to Taylor's office and turn on the CCTV monitors.

"Michael Griffin." Griff, Elena's attorney, puts out his hand to Cleve. "We've met at the Greys."

I've met Griff at my parents' home several times. He's my age, and a former associate at my father's firm.

"Good to see you again, Griff. Mrs. Lincoln, we've met before, but please allow me to reintroduce myself. I'm Cleve Anderson, and I will lead this meeting. Per procedure here at Grey House, all contract proceedings are audio and video recorded. Are you aware that our meeting is being recorded?"

"Where's Mr. Grey? I know he's in town. I saw a tape of him on that Bandi show yesterday. He's watching this on CCTV, isn't he?" Good, she knows I'm with Anastasia.

"Mr. Grey is in a meeting. He very much wants to speak to you, and he will be joining us shortly. Please verbally acknowledge that you know our meeting is being recorded, and that you give permission to have the meeting recorded."

"Fine. It's fine if you record the meeting. I'm well aware of Mr. Grey's penchant for recording his meetings." Elena looks up, directly into the camera.

Yes, Bitch, I have my eyes and ears trained on you.

"Mrs. Lincoln, I'd like you to meet Mr. Grey's team here at GEH. From GEH accounting, Mrs. Silver and Mr. Carlton. Mr. Mason is Mr. Grey's personal accountant. Mr. Welch is head of GEH security. Mrs. Stein and Mr. Park are from GEH legal.

"Mr. Grey has enjoyed a mutually beneficial business association with you, Mrs. Lincoln, and he makes no judgment regarding your management of the salon chain. He no longer wishes to be in the salon business, and salons do not currently mesh with his portfolio.

"Your partnership…here's a copy of the original Limited Partnership Agreement for you, Mrs. Lincoln…is split 60/40 with Mr. Grey, a silent partner, holding the majority share. According to the agreement, either of you may seek dissolution at any time, for any reason.

"Mr. Grey initiated an audit yesterday, and the audit report should be ready sometime within the next thirty to sixty days. A copy of the audit will be available to you. Mr. Grey's silent partnership limited his liability, so any irregularities in accounting or tax reporting will fall to you. Is there anything you'd like to say in regard to your accounting or tax reporting practices? Mr. Grey doesn't want any surprises from the IRS."

"What's going on? Why is Christian doing this?"

"Mr. Grey simply isn't interested in the salon business, and per his legal obligations, he is prepared to pay you generously for your share of the salons. He wants immediate dissolution, as of close of business today."

"Today? No! Why would I do that?"

"If you wish to keep the salon chain, Mr. Grey offers the option of buying his shares, but you have one hour to make the decision. It is 1:05 pm, so the offer stands until 2:05 pm. Payment is due before the close of business today. Mr. Grey will not split up the salons, so if you wish to purchase, it's all or none.

"All Esclava employees and associates are at this very moment being informed of the dissolution. Mr. Grey is offering the employees the option of purchase if you decline. Mr. Grey's agents are in talks with employees, and all employees will be well compensated for loss of employment.

"I have also provided you with copies of the Order of Liquidation, Division of Funds, and Debt Balance.

Cleve looks to Marvella Silver.

"Mrs. Silver, you had something to ask Mrs. Lincoln?"

"Yes. Mrs. Lincoln, yesterday I asked about a cash discrepancy. You told me you took a draw. Is that correct?"

"I'm a partner, so yes, I occasionally took a draw."

A draw is not a loan, but simply cash taken from a company's coffers. There are some business arrangements in which draw accounts would be appropriate, but I never authorized such an arrangement with Elena. Subconsciously, I think I always knew she was duplicitous.

"Usually each partner has a separate drawing account to facilitate accurate record keeping. A partner must report his draws for tax purposes, and all partners must be informed of equity reductions. There are no draws on the books, Mrs. Lincoln. A business must account for distributions of draws. In addition, Mr. Grey was never informed of any draws."

"Where is Mr. Grey? I need to talk to him."

"He'll be here soon. In any case, there was never an agreement between you and Mr. Grey to allow for draws, so these are monies you took without authorization. Your so-called draws amount to over two hundred thousand dollars."

"Let me talk to Christian. He and I can work this out between the two of us."

Griff puts his hand on Elena's arm to quiet her, and gives her an admonishing look. He knows Elena is in hot water.

Cleve pulls the meeting back on track.

"There will be time to speak to Mr. Grey. Let's review the valuation that was conducted yesterday. Here are the figures.

Valuations

Post Alley/Seattle 425,000

Bravern/Bellevue 350,000

Mercer Island 315,000

Edmonds 275,000

1,365,000

"The valuations were reached last night after a preliminary audit and performance evaluation. If you disagree with the figures, you are free to take this to court. If you contest this, please remember that Mr. Grey has unlimited resources and can keep you in court for the remainder of your natural life.

"Your forty percent share comes to 546K. When we subtract the draws, your payment comes to 320K. We have a cashier's check for you today, if you sign the dissolution agreement.

"You are a partner, but you also enjoy the title, salary, and benefits of General Manager. Mr. Grey has drawn termination papers, and is granting you a severance of one month's pay and health benefits to continue for the next thirty days.

"Here is your copy of the statement you signed yesterday, regarding Esclava's outstanding debts. Mr. Grey will carry liability for any of Esclava's debts, which are not listed on the Debt Balance, not to exceed $50,000. Subject to the terms of the sale, any debts beyond that amount fall to you."

Griff whispers to Elena. I walk briskly down the hall, and with deliberation, I loudly throw the door open.

"I was detained by a meeting. My apologies."

"What the hell is going on? Why are you doing this?"

"Didn't Cleve tell you? I no longer wish to be in the salon business."

"This has something to do with that piece of ass you're parading in front of television cameras."

"I'd appreciate decorum. I won't have you speak disrespectfully of Anastasia."

"Hmpf…Your offer will barely keep me going for a year."

"That will give you a year to figure out your next venture. The clock is ticking on this deal. Sign in the next five minutes, and I'll throw in an extra fifty grand."

"What's the hurry, darling?"

I am exclusively Anastasia's darling. I am hers and she is mine.

"Terms of endearment sound ridiculous coming from you, so cut the bullshit. My requirement for a speedy accord has everything to do with you. Quite simply, I can't get away from you fast enough."

"I took a sniveling piece of shit, and turned him into the man you are today. I'm the woman behind Christian Grey. I provided funds to start GEH. I gave you the mental and emotional discipline to make it happen. By all rights, this business is mine, as much as it's yours."

"Mrs. Lincoln," Griff interrupts. "As your attorney, I advise you to limit your discussion to the deal at hand. Do you wish to accept Mr. Grey's terms, or contest them?"

Elena waves a dismissive hand at Griff. I plow ahead, say what I need to say.

"So that's why you've been stealing from me, using me as your ATM. You feel entitled to what I've created. I've repaid that loan twentyfold. Not only have you taken my money, but you stole my adolescence. I no longer want to see your face, hear your voice, or have any association with you."

"You'll beg to see me again. In the end, you always begged. Do you remember?"

"I remember you raping me when I was fifteen." I hear gasps from around the table. All these people are bound by NDAs, so I speak freely. "I remember your deceptions. For twelve years, I blindly allowed you to manipulate me into submission. You and I are finished. My family is finished with you as well."

"Mrs. Lincoln," Griff interjects. "I implore you to cease this discussion."

Elena shoots Griff a withering look, and proceeds, ignoring the advice of her counsel.

"I spoke to Grace a couple of days ago, and we have plans for lunch tomorrow."

"Unless you want a good old fashioned ass whooping, I'd skip lunch." I laugh aloud at the thought of Elena showing up for lunch with Mother.

"You told them about us? I don't believe you."

"No more secrets. They know all about your sexual and physical abuse."

"That was consensual. You loved it."

"The law calls it abuse. Rape."

"Ridiculous."

"I'm looking around the table at all these good folks, including your own attorney, and they don't seem to find it ridiculous."

"You little shit. Prove it. I dare you."

"You know how I love a challenge."

"GEH should be mine. I made you. I believed in you. I gave you start up funds."

"You gave me nothing. You loaned me money you took from your husband. That loan was hush money. You knew I wanted out from under your domination. You knew I was unhappy. You were worried about the statute of limitations, worried about me squealing. You didn't believe in me."

"How can you say that? Of course I believed in you. Give me part of GEH. If you don't, I'll file suit for my share."

"On what grounds? You are one delusional bitch. I won't be blackmailed, manipulated, or threatened. I have a strict 'no deals with the devil' policy."

"Your crack whore birth mother didn't believe in you, but I did. I believed in you when Grace and Carrick turned their backs on you."

The bitch wants to get down and dirty. I can do that.

"If you had truly believed in me, truly known I'd become successful, you'd have insisted on a partnership contract. No, that was hush money. It was Linc's money, easy come, easy go. You never expected me to become successful, or at the time of the loan, you would have asked for half the business. You'd be a billionaire now."

Elena's missed opportunity provokes me to guffaw. It's followed by a loud, uninhibited howl from deep inside my belly. Cleve, who is bent over his notes, also laughs. Before I know it, everyone in the room is cackling along with me. Even Griff is trying unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh.

This is something new. I've certainly had a few yuks with family members. And I cherish the intimate humor I've shared with Anastasia. But I've never let go, never laughed with so much exuberance, not in a group. Through the sharing of a joke…Elena…we are bonded. I've never before appreciated the power of communal laughter. What an extraordinary experience.

Elena's face is red with fury and embarrassment.

"Give you part of GEH? You are fucking unbelievable. You have twenty more minutes to sign the asset transfer. The only reason I'm offering you fair market value is to stay on the right side of the law. Take the money or don't."

I turn to Griff.

"You may want to point out the 'no contact, no trespassing' clause in the asset transfer, and remind your client of the NDA she signed."

"Ungrateful son of a bitch! I made you, and I'll ruin you."

"You cannot imagine the enormity of the fuck I do not give. Good-bye and good riddance, Mrs. Lincoln."

XXXXXXX

"I have an hour before I need to leave for SEATAC. How shall we spend it?"

"Any way you like."

"You are perfect."

"I'm not. And keeping me on a pedestal will only lead to disappointment."

"You _**are**_ perfect."

"No, I'm stubborn. Petty. Jealous of your past. I'm insecure about my looks. And I'm greedy and demanding of your love. I'm lazy…hate to exercise. I oftentimes indulge in unhealthy food."

"I like that part about being greedy and demanding of my love. Are you feeling that way right now?"

"Now and every minute of every day since I met you."

"Tell me how to satisfy your greedy demands."

As we've talked, I've been undressing Anastasia. My God, she truly is perfection. Every inch of her is artfully arranged. Her beauty is only eclipsed by her inherent goodness.

"Love me. With your body, heart, and soul. Love me."

"Always."


	20. And Another Door Opens

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 20**

 **And Another Door Opens**

 **Thursday, June 9, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

"Promise me you'll be cautious. I have no idea what her mental state might be. She's out wandering the streets."

"How did she break out of a psych ward?"

"Technically she hadn't been admitted to the psych ward yet. She escaped while in the ER at Swedish. The bigger puzzle is how she broke into my apartment."

"What's her name?"

"Leila Williams. I guess she goes by Reed now. She got married."

"When did you last see her?"

"A little over two years ago."

"Why did it end?"

"Leila was a great submissive, the best, but she wanted more. She wanted a boyfriend."

"Oh."

 _Leila was a great submissive. The best._

His words distress me.

I recall the sounds Christian makes at the very end, the half-grunt, half-cry that emanates from deep within. Since our first night together in Montana, I've wanted to pretend those utterances were something he made only for me.

That little fantasy has been shattered by a girl named Leila.

There's an enormous ick factor with Christian's submissives. Oh, they're probably perfectly pleasant women, maybe even the type of people I could befriend, under different circumstances. The kind, rational part of me wants to regard them charitably.

But there's a stronger me, a new Ana. Crazy-jealous-girlfriend-Ana. Quite simply, I irrationally loathe any woman Christian has touched. I don't like feeling this way, but I'm not ashamed of it either. These are my feelings, and they seem neither right nor wrong.

"What are you thinking?"

Now isn't the time. If I ever share my anxieties, that should be a face-to-face conversation.

"How will I know her, if I see her? What does she look like?"

"Like you, but her eyes are bourbon brown."

 _Bourbon brown._ Fuck. That sounds romantic. She looks like me, but her eyes are special. Maybe I'm a substitute for the one who has literally gotten away. I squelch this thought, before my insecurities take over.

"What did Leila say to your housekeeper?"

"She asked for me, and when told I was gone, she made a suicide attempt in front of Gail. Slashed her wrist with a box cutter, speaking gibberish. Gail called 911, and followed the ambulance to the hospital."

"Did Gail notify police of the break-in?"

"No. Why would she do that? Leila is sick and needs medical help. Turning Leila over to the police would also lead to questions about my past relationship with her."

"After you dumped Mrs. Robinson's ass, I thought we had entered the era of living in truth and light. Who cares what people make of your past relationships…and mentally ill or not, Leila broke the law. By not notifying police, you've just told Leila that home invasion is perfectly acceptable."

"I was her Dom. I feel some responsibility for Leila."

"That's a problem for me. In fact, I have several problems with all of this."

"Baby, I know it's hard to understand. You can't fathom what you've never experienced."

He speaks to me as if I'm a child.

"Don't you dare patronize me."

Really, Grey? I'm the one who doesn't understand?

I understand all too well. The relationships seem fairly simple. Submissive girls allow a beautiful, brilliant billionaire to fuck and flog with few limits. In exchange they receive orgasms, jewels, cars, clothes, cash. It's upscale prostitution with a dash of kink.

"I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Please, baby."

"This conversation is exhausting, and needs to end. We can discuss it when you return."

"Anastasia, please. Let's not leave things like this." Christian sounds frazzled, frantic, lost.

I don't want my darling man to fret all the way back to Seattle.

"We'll work things out when you get home. Everything will be okay."

"I love you." His voice is sad, resigned.

"And I love you."

This is the second disagreement we've had in the past week.

The first was on Monday, when Ethan returned from Barbados. He came home ahead of the others to attend a graduate school seminar.

Luke took me to the airport to meet Ethan, and we headed to Ikea to pick up a few things for Ethan's room. Every day since Christian left, I've sent pictures of me with co-workers, Mia, Luke, all sorts of silly, banal images. Christian has repeatedly told me how much he enjoys the photos, so I sent a few pics of Luke, Ethan, and me at Ikea.

Wrong move. I immediately received an angry text.

 **WTF! You won't move in with me, but you'll send photos of you and Kavanagh shopping for fucking pillows and towels.**

And then another.

 **If you don't care for me anymore, just say so.**

I should have known better. For all his brilliance, his powers of reason and logic, my man is a child when it comes to relationships.

He adds two plus two, and comes up with five.

Every. Single. Time.

I replied.

 **If you don't trust me, just say so.**

The phone rang immediately.

"Baby, I do trust you. I don't trust Kavanagh."

"What's your problem with Ethan? I thought you liked him. Ethan likes you. He thinks you're perfect for me."

"He does? Kavanagh's okay, I guess. I don't like him living with you."

"Ethan is family. What if I got jealous over Mia?"

"That would be foolish."

"Exactly. Ethan is to me as Mia is to you."

"Move in with me, and we won't have these problems."

Lord, no, let's not have a rehash of an earlier phone call, when I told Christian I won't move in with him.

"I told you. It's entirely too soon for us to live together. Ask me again in a year."

"A year? That's a fucking eternity."

There's a whiny, boyish edge to his voice. Why do I find pouty Christian so adorable?

"Are you saying I'm not worth waiting for?"

"Of course not. You infuriating woman."

Christian and I are experiencing growing pains in our relationship. We're getting to know each other. With or without submissives, Elena Lincoln, the Seattle Nooz, and any number of other distractions, I suppose it's normal for us to be having disagreements.

While Christian's been away in Taiwan, I've had plenty of time to reflect on us as a couple. I've come up with some goals, and I plan to bring them up when we have our appointment with Dr. Flynn. I think Flynn can help us with communication skills, trust issues, and the haphephobia.

There's one goal I intend to work on by myself. I want Christian to have his own family. I'd like it to be with me, of course, but if that isn't in the cards, I still want him to have a family of his very own. Christian doesn't regard himself as husband and father material, but I want him to see those roles as possibilities. It may take years, but as long as we're together, I'll love him as much as he'll allow, and I'll encourage him to embrace family life.

Getting rid of Mrs. Robinson was a huge accomplishment for Christian. I'm enormously proud of him. Back in Montana, when he first told me about her, I doubted it was possible to ever break free of her. I know Christian unshackled himself, in large part, because of me, and that makes me love him all the more. Having Mrs. Robinson out of the way has been reassuring, and it's another barrier we've successfully breached.

Before the Esclava dissolution, Grace and The Pedophile had made a lunch date. Mia couldn't wait to tell me all about it.

Grace, filled with fresh rage and fury, was determined to keep the appointment. Carrick, knowing Grace's state of mind, was worried about a possible public throw down. As a proactive measure, he decided to accompany Grace to the lunch meeting.

Christian predicted Mrs. Robinson would be a no-show, and he was correct. Grace was mightily disappointed. Carrick was mightily relieved.

Elena Lincoln accepted Christian's buy-out offer, and slithered away. The Feds caught up with her this week, and carted her off to the Federal Detention Center at SEATAC. She was questioned, and served with a felony complaint for 401K embezzlement involving three employees.

I'm not sure, but I think Elena's free on some kind of bond, waiting for pre-trial hearings, which could take weeks. She had to find a new attorney. Mia knows all the ins and outs of the case, and truthfully, I'm so exhausted from work, I only half listen.

I accepted a seat on the Coping Together board, which made all the Greys very happy, especially Christian. I asked Grace to limit my term to one year, so I can get my feet wet, and learn what's expected of me.

Caroline Acton, personal shopper at Neiman Marcus, helped me choose a dress for the gala. It's silvery gray, the color of Christian's eyes. I hope he likes it.

Kate and Elliot won't be here for the gala. It'll be another week before they're home. I can't wait to see them together. Katie Bug tells me she's "crazy in love with Elliot." I'm so happy for both of them.

I miss Kate terribly. Mia is a sweetheart, but she and I haven't yet developed the communication shorthand Kate and I share. When Kate and I shop, she knows exactly what to bring me in the dressing room, careful not to overwhelm me. In a restaurant, Bug can glance over a menu and order for me. She can read my moods, and she knows what I need to hear. Kate knows when to push and prod, and she knows when to back off.

Christian will be home tomorrow. We have plans to meet up at Grey House as soon as I get off work. My work wardrobe is jeans and Nikes, but since I'll be meeting up with him after work, I want to dress up a bit. I find a crisp blue striped button up out of my closet, then borrow a navy blue skirt and red pumps from Kate. I'll wear flats for work, then change shoes when I get to Grey House.

I hope my man likes what he sees.

 **Friday, June 10, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

I wake with a start. I've just dreamed I'm pregnant, with a litter of puppies no less. I get up for the toilet and a drink of water. As I glance at my bed head in the bathroom mirror, I suddenly realize with great horror that my period is overdue. Only overdue by a couple of days, but certainly overdue.

Shit.

Last night in the shower, my boobs felt tender, overly sensitive.

My appetite has been through the roof. I can't get enough yogurt and cheese.

I've been extra tired the past couple of days, feeling nappy in the afternoon. I chalked that up to my new job and my ridiculously early wake-up time.

Could I be pregnant?

Caffeine will help me think. As I dunk my teabag into the mug, I wonder if tea is a good idea. Will caffeine harm my child?

My child. Mine. Christian's. Ours.

Fuck. Fuckety. Fuck.

Christian.

No time for tea. I throw on jeans and a hoodie. I find my Nikes under the bed and grab my bag. The kitchen clock tells me it's 2:51 am.

Luke isn't here, and I'm certainly not going to wake Ethan. Breaking Christian's security protocol, I walk quickly and purposefully to Bartell's Drugstore for a pregnancy test. The store is open 24 hours. It's not a long walk.

The streets are empty, and I've never felt more alone.

As I enter the store, I recall the visit to Walgreen's in Kalispell, when Christian and I went searching for condoms.

If only Christian could see me now.

He would shit a brick.

The pregnancy tests are in the back of the store next to my old friend, Plan B. There are several to choose from, and I study the boxes, finally deciding on First Response. The box promises the test to be highly sensitive and accurate. We'll see about that.

When I reach the elderly cashier at check out, he appraises me, and raises a brow. "Nineteen, ninety-seven." I hand him a twenty, and tell him I don't need a bag. He smiles kindly. "I pray the outcome is your heart's desire. God bless you, child."

The cashier recognizes me as a girl in trouble. Knocked up. In a family way.

Though there's no traffic, I stop at the corner and wait for the light to change. I fight to retain composure, but lose the battle. I quietly weep.

I walk, and I weep.

My heart's desire.

It's 3:39 am when I arrive home. I must be at work by 5. I need to take this test.

The instructions are straightforward. Urinate on the stick for five seconds and wait three minutes. Two lines are a positive result. One line is negative.

It's strange, but I believe I already know the outcome.

I pee.

I wait.

Two lines on a stick.

Positive.

I am calm. Serene. Everything comes into focus.

And my heart soars with delight.

My heart's desire.

I think I've always wanted to be a mother. The timing certainly isn't ideal. But this child was conceived from love. Christian says he doesn't want children, but perhaps over time, he'll have a change of heart. I'll have to take the lead, show him the way.

My heart's desire.

I, Anastasia Steele, will become someone's mother.

I shower and put on the red lingerie set. The skirt and blouse look feminine, and slightly dressy. I slip into red ballet flats for work, and throw the red Louboutins in my tote. Christian likes Louboutins.

I'll meet Christian after work and tell him the news. He won't like it, but I must tell him.

Luke has keys to the apartment and the building. He greets me at the apartment door with his usual brightness. It's 4:35, and if we walk briskly I'll make it to work on time.

"It feels like rain, and we're running a couple of minutes late. I should drive you."

"Drop me at the door, please. And don't forget, Mr. Grey is coming home today."

"Someone's happy."

"Yes, I'm getting my boyfriend back. He said the plane should land sometime mid-morning. I'll text you about picking me up this afternoon."

Just before I reach the doors of KKAV, a young woman steps in front of me. Even in semi-darkness, I can see her dishevelment. She must be homeless. Poor thing. She smells the way Dad does when he's been away for a long weekend of camping and fishing.

"What do you have that I don't?"

Is this her way of asking for money? I dig out my wallet. I have my debit card, and six dollars in cash. I hand her the cash, but she stares at me blankly. Her silhouette reveals delicate even features.

"I'm sorry, but it's all I have." For a moment I wonder if this is panhandling, or some kind of hold up. I show her my empty wallet, hoping she won't try anything violent.

"Doesn't he give you money?"

"What do you mean? I don't get paid for another week."

"Master. Doesn't he give you an allowance?"

Shit. It's Leila.

"Christian is a boyfriend, not a john. I'm a girlfriend, not a hooker."

I dig into my tote for my phone, but I don't want to take my eyes off Leila.

She's freaky. Scary.

"You aren't very nice. I don't understand why Master puts up with you."

"Leila, let me get you some help."

"I only want Master. A hard fuck and a cane would make me feel better. Master knows what I need."

Over my dead body. Crazy skank.

Leila is jittery. Her left eye blinks and twitches. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, making me think she's about to take off running. Is she on drugs?

"Okay. How about I call him? I'll let him know where you are. Someone can pick you up, and take you to him."

"Master is dark. I can make Master happy."

"Leila." I reach for her, but she takes off, heading west on Pine Street.

I group text Luke, Taylor, and Christian. Perhaps Luke can find her.

As soon as I reach my cubicle, Leo approaches. He assigns two stories to prepare for the 6 am broadcast.

One is a traffic accident on I-5 near Boeing Field. There have been three fatalities. I'm now fully trained on the editing software, though I'm not yet proficient and lack speed. Camera footage and notes have been provided by the on-site reporter. I have to cut this together and write lead-ins for the morning anchors.

The second story deals with the shutdown of a puppy mill outside Bothell. I started working on this yesterday afternoon, so it's just a matter of adding the finishing touches. Being a dog lover, this segment is deeply affecting. Washington State has some of the most progressive animal cruelty laws in the nation, but experts say even our strong legislation can't prevent animals from being treated like cash crops.

Leo swings by and checks the segments, giving them his okay. The morning runs smoothly until about 8:15, when we receive reports of a house fire in Redmond. We have a traffic reporter near the scene. We scramble and manage to get the story together for the 9 am broadcast. Working together as a team to meet deadlines is exhilarating. I hate the hours, but I love my new job.

The morning news broadcasts are complete, and we all take a quick break before our daily planning meeting. I use my break to text Christian.

 **I've missed you terribly. Can't wait to see you.**

There's no response from Christian. Perhaps his plane hasn't landed yet. It's time to head into the conference room for our planning meeting. We discuss what went well this morning, and what didn't. Team members pitch story concepts. I haven't been invited to pitch yet, but according to Leo, that will soon change. Our meeting wraps at 10:45.

The morning news team works from 5 a.m. until 2 p.m. At 11 am we get an hour lunch break. Maybe there's a way I can visit Christian over my lunch hour.

As we exit the meeting, I nervously ask Leo if I might use my comp time from last week, and take off early today. Being new, I'm not quite sure about the protocol for comp time.

"Sure, Ana, take two hours today and if things are calm, you can take the other two hours next Friday. Have a great weekend."

I check my phone. There's a message from Christian. I hold my breath as I read it, and consider how I'll share the news of our parenthood.

 **C: Where are you? What does your day look like?**

 **A: Just getting off work. I'll head home unless you can fit me into your schedule. I need to see you in person, ASAP.**

 **C: Somebody's missed me. I'm hot for your body, too.**

 **A: As hot as I always am for you, my darling, we need to talk.**

 **C: Sounds serious.**

 **A: It is.**

 **C: Trouble?**

 **A: I'd rather discuss it in person.**

 **C: Does this have something to do with Leila?**

 **A: No, but has she been found?**

 **C: No trace. She's disappeared again.**

 **A: That's unfortunate. She needs professional help.**

 **C: How about lunch at noon?**

 **A: Can't wait.**

 **C: Be prepared, baby. You are dessert.**

Christian's desire pleases me, and fills me with glee. He will always be my favorite dessert.

There's an hour to kill, before I see Christian. Needing to burn off excess energy, I ask Luke if we can take a walk around the neighborhood.

As we stroll down the sidewalk, I consider how life will change with a baby. Crap. I'll have to arrange child care. How will Kate feel about a baby in the apartment? Perhaps I'll be able to afford a one bedroom on my own.

How should I break the news? Put it in a fortune cookie? Give him a rattle or booties? In response, will he scoop me up in his arms, swing me around, and shower me with joyful kisses?

Whatever Christian's reaction, I'll be okay. We…Christian, our baby, and I…will be fine. I'll make certain of it. I will do whatever is required to ensure that our child has a safe and happy childhood. I hope that childhood includes Christian.

As Luke and I walk down Post Alley, we pass Boston Street Baby Store.

"Let's go inside."

Luke checks his watch.

"Is it important? Mr. Grey is expecting you soon."

"I need to pick up a baby gift."

Luke eyes me skeptically, but follows me into the store.

Never having been in an establishment like this, I'm a stranger in a strange land. Layette items are arranged by color, with pink and blue dominating. Daughter or son?

On a mannequin, I spot a romper. It's white, and in blue block letters, it announces, 'MADE WITH LOVE.'

If my calculations are correct, our baby was conceived on Commencement Day, after Christian and I confessed our love.

Made with love.

Baby Grey.

Will the child be Steele or Grey? Definitely not a hyphenated name.

 _Slow down, Ana, you're getting ahead of things._

I turn my attention back to the romper. It's darling, appropriate to the situation, and gender neutral.

I decide to buy it as a gift for Christian.

It's also for me. For my private celebration. For my heart's desire.

There's a stack of the rompers below the mannequin. I choose the smallest size, and take it to the clerk.

"Did you see the blue receiving blanket? The color is an exact match to this."

"I didn't notice. May I see it?" Suddenly I've turned into a shopper. This child is already doing things to me.

The grandmotherly clerk eagerly holds up a simple waffle weave blue blanket. It matches the lettering on the romper. The cotton fabric is feathery soft and looks so comfortable. The suit is footless, so she suggests blue socks.

"These are perfect together. I'll take them."

"Are you certain of the size? Is this for a newborn?"

"Yes."

"Zero through 3 months? Or 3 through 6 months?"

"I know nothing about baby clothes. The child hasn't been born yet."

"A shower gift?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'd go with 3 to 6 months."

"You're the expert. I appreciate your help." I'm so out of my element.

"Shall I gift wrap?"

"Yes, please."

"Rubber ducky okay?"

The paper is black polka dots on white. The ribbon is yellow. The clerk uses some kind of tacky adhesive to affix a rubber bath duck.

I giggle at the thought of Christian opening it.

"Sure. Very cute."

"Ana, we really need to get going." Luke checks his watch again.

Yes, it's time to share my news with the father of my child.

The clerk attempts to make small talk as I pay, but all I can think of is Christian. I shove the box of my baby's things into my tote.

 _My baby's things._

When is my baby is due? I calculate in my head and come up with February. It will be cold. My baby will need warm things.

Oh, I do hope our baby looks like Christian. The thought of a ginger mini-Christian leaves me with a stupid grin.

Luke walks me to the front door. He holds my tote, as I switch out my flats for the ridiculous Louboutins.

"I'll be back soon with lunch, Ana. You've got it from here?"

"Yes, thanks."

I square my shoulders, and give myself a pep talk.

 _Everything will be okay. I'll make certain of it. Oh, sweet child, I'm here for you. I'll love you, forever and always. Your Daddy will grow to love you, too._

It's 11:50. Show time. The blonde at the lobby reception desk looks up at me. She seems distracted and irritated.

"Anastasia Steele. I have an appointment with Mr. Grey."

She looks me up and down, checks her computer, and types.

She frowns.

"Spell your name, please."

"S-T-E-E-L-E. Anastasia or Ana."

"There's no appointment listed for that name." She gives me a disapproving look, as if I have no right to be in the building.

I should call Christian, but I don't want to interrupt his business.

"Is Taylor here? He can vouch for me."

"Taylor?"

"Mr. Grey's CPO."

The receptionist picks up a phone, turns her back to me, and has a whispered exchange.

"Mr. Taylor is away on a business trip with Mr. Grey."

Apparently these three have no idea of Christian's return.

"Nice try." A very large man in a security guard uniform approaches, and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Now shuffle along. You have no business here."

"Please remove your hand. I'm not going anywhere."

A second blonde joins us at the reception area.

"Wait a minute, Ralph. She does look a bit like the girl who was on TV with Mr. Grey." Maybe Blonde Two is putting things together. Thank goodness.

"No, that can't be her. Look, she has no makeup, and she looks so…plain. Pale and skinny." Blonde One is entitled to her opinion, but I don't like the way she said that.

"True. The girl on TV was way prettier." Damn. Blonde Two is just plain harsh.

"Well, what are we going to do with her? I'm new here, and I don't want to make the call." The security guard defers to the blondes.

All three freely speak about me as if I'm a piece of furniture.

"Let's google and see if it's her."

Oh, for the love of God. I can't put up with this for one more minute.

I certainly don't expect special treatment, and there's no reason why anyone should know who I am. But I don't think I should tolerate anyone's disrespect.

"Don't trouble yourselves over this. Give me one minute, and I'll get it straightened out."

Christian picks up on the first ring.

"Baby, where are you?"

"Sawyer dropped me off, and I'm in your lobby. Seems I can't get clearance to come up."

"Be right there."

The blondes and security guard are agape. They heard every word.

"Yes, that was me in the television interview. I don't usually wear makeup. Christian thinks I look prettier with a bare face. Don't look so shocked."

"You? You're Mr. Grey's girlfriend?" Blonde Two asks in disbelief.

I move to the elevator bank to wait for Christian. Knowing I'm minutes from seeing Christian has my stomach in knots. I'm a bundle of nerves, excited and afraid all at once.

"Baby, you're here." Christian pulls me into his embrace, and gives me a quick, chaste kiss on the mouth. "What was the problem?"

"One of the blondes couldn't find me on your appointment schedule. I don't have a problem with that, but both blondes and the security guard were very rude."

Christian takes out his phone and texts someone. Then he walks over to the trio.

"See that beautiful woman. That's Anastasia Steele, the center of my universe. Someone from HR will be down here in a few minutes to counsel the three of you. There may be terminations, so be forewarned."

"Yes, sir." They respond in unison.

"I apologize, baby. Please don't worry about that ever happening again. With the distractions of Elena and Leila, I dropped the ball about putting you on the list of cleared visitors."

We step into Christian's private elevator. As soon as the doors close, he's all over me. It feels so good to be in his arms. The elevator stops way too soon.

Two blondes sit behind a counter, their eyes fixed on computer monitors. They look up in surprise. I recognize one of them. Elliot introduced me to her on the day of Kate's interview. I think her name is Andrea.

"Anastasia, I'd like you to meet my personal assistant, Andrea Parker. Andrea, do you remember Miss Steele? She visited once before, a month ago. And this is Olivia Blandino, Andrea's assistant."

"It's good to see you again, Miss Steele." Andrea chirps. "May I offer you a refreshment?"

"Please call me Ana. Water would be wonderful."

I'm parched. Nerves will do that to you.

"Be right back."

"It's nice to meet you, Olivia."

"You too. May I call you Ana?"

"Of course."

Andrea returns quickly with a bottle of water. I thank her, open the bottle, and drink greedily. In one continuous chug, I empty the water.

"Jeez, baby, thirsty much?"

I truly was thirsty, but I realize now, I've used the water as a delay tactic. I'm jumpy, anxious.

Christian leads me into his office. His mouth and hands are on me again. It feels good, but I can't get too comfortable.

Should I tell Christian before, or after, we eat lunch?

When I get nervous, I always need to pee.

"I should have asked as soon as I arrived, but where's the restroom?"

"I have a bathroom here in my office."

Christian leads me to a panel, which melds seamlessly with the wall. If Christian didn't point it out, I'd never know the panel was his bathroom door. He presses and the panel pops open.

I use the toilet, and wash my hands. I apply peachy pink lip gloss and mascara. Running a brush through it, I try to do something with my hair.

I've delayed this as much as I dare. It's time to face the music.

It's time to face Christian.

My baby daddy. That's a phrase I never thought I'd use.

"Lunch will be here soon. Let me take your things. You look so tense. Relax."

He puts my bag on an end table.

"Sit with me. I need to tell you something." I pat the space next to me on the sofa.

Christian sits, but doesn't lean back. He's perched on the edge. His back is rigid, and his face is furrowed with worry.

"What's wrong, baby? I've never seen you look so…grave. You're alarming me. Does this have something to do with us?"

"Yes." It comes out barely a whisper.

"I know what you're going to tell me. I don't want to hear it."

Christian is pale.

"You know? How?"

"It doesn't matter how I know. I knew this was going to happen."

"Listen to me, Christian. Please. It's going to be okay. Everything will be alright."

"I know what you're going to tell me, Anastasia, and I fucking don't want to hear it."

Christian staggers back from me. He reels and sways. Is he going to pass out?

He straightens his body, and his movements become more organized.

He paces like a caged animal. Back and forth. Back and forth, with longer and longer strides.

"Please talk to me. Listen to me. I don't expect anything from you, but you should be the first to hear the news, and you should hear it from me."

Suddenly his body bends and coils, and like a rattlesnake, he strikes. Christian hovers over me, his nose within an inch of mine. He is wild-eyed, pulling at his hair. His deep baritone roars.

"WHAT. THE. FUCK. You made me fall in love with you, and now you're ripping my heart out!"

Christian frightens me. I knew he'd be upset, but this is somehow different from what I expected. I move backwards toward his desk, needing to lean on it for support.

"Christian, we need to talk things out. Please calm down so we can discuss this."

"What do you not understand? I told you! I don't want to hear anything you have to say."

Christian picks up one of the chairs in front of his desk. He is so strong, that he's able to hurl it across the room. White leather and chrome fly through the air, making a spectacular boom upon hitting his office doors.

He's a child inhabiting the powerful body of an adult. Christian would never intentionally hurt me, but in this moment, he's dangerous. I need to get his attention, so I can pacify him.

Just when I think he might calm down, he screams again. No words this time, just a deep guttural sound. Christian throws the other chair against the tall double doors, producing another thunderous crash. This time, I believe the entire building shakes.

I'm startled. I stumble, falling awkwardly against the desk, and then onto the floor.

The door bursts open. It's Taylor. He looks from Christian to me and back again, stunned and confused at what is happening.

"You had to come along and fuck up my life, make me love you. All I've wanted is for us to be together. Arrggg!" Christian upturns the coffee table and it nearly hits me.

"Mr. Grey! Please be mindful of Miss Steele's well-being."

I'm still on the floor. Taylor moves the chairs and table out of his way, and puts them back into their proper locations. He helps me up.

"Are you okay? Can you get up?"

There's an unspoken question. Taylor wants to know if Christian has hurt me.

"I'll be fine. I'm just clumsy."

Christian is on the floor with his head in his hands. He tugs at his hair. He is pale, wan, silent. His vacant eyes are fixed on the floor, and he rocks himself back and forth. The powerful CEO is long gone. In his place is a frightened boy.

My left ankle is painful and tender. I take off the Louboutins, and hop to him on my right foot.

"Christian?" I drop to the floor, and take Christian's hands, lacing my fingers with his. "Please. Everything will be okay. Nothing is expected of you. Nothing. Christian, look at me."

"Can you leave us alone?" Taylor doesn't budge. He is loyal, and doesn't want to take direction from anyone other than his employer. Seeing that Christian is emotionally incapacitated, he finally defers to me. "I'm fine, and Christian will be fine."

"If you or Mr. Grey should need me, I'll be right outside the door."

Taylor reluctantly departs.

Broken and forlorn, my man's eyes meet mine.

"Please don't leave me. I'll try harder."

Christian's plea breaks my heart.

I swallow the sob that rises in my throat, and I fight back tears.

This has been a huge, horrible misunderstanding. He hasn't a clue about the pregnancy.

Christian is afraid of abandonment.

"Oh, my darling, I'm not leaving you. Don't you think I know the effort you're putting into us? Please don't think I'm leaving you."

"You're not leaving?" His beautiful grays stare in disbelief.

Christian wraps his arms tightly around my waist, and nuzzles his face in my breasts, searching for comfort. I run my fingers through his hair, and revel in the feel of the short, silky soft hairs at the nape of his neck.

"I'm not leaving you. But I have something to tell you, and you may not be very happy about it."

"You really aren't leaving me?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"With Elena and Leila and my fucked up past, I thought you'd decided I'm not worth the trouble."

"Goofball boyfriend." I grab his face with both hands and offer a deep, reassuring kiss. "Never, ever doubt my love. Remember our mantra?"

"I thought…" He lowers his head in discomfiture. "I thought you had changed your mind about loving me."

"I love you more than ever. More and more each day."

"You do?"

"I do."

"What do you need to tell me? I can listen now."

"Could you help me off the floor?"

Christian gently pulls me up and lifts me into his arms. He sits on the sofa, cradling me in his lap, holding me close.

"I brought you a present. It's in my bag. Open it, and then we'll talk."

Christian gives me a cautious smile, and slowly pulls the gift from my tote.

"A rubber duck? Something for our bath time." Christian's eyes dance with anticipation and excitement. "Oh, baby, you've decided you want to play. Did you get some toys? An immersible vibrator, right?"

"You have a terrible habit of jumping to conclusions. Open the gift."

Wearing the brightest of smiles, he tears into the package. Pulling back the tissue paper, he peers into the box, and cocks his head in confusion. The socks are on top. He slowly reaches for them, silently asking for an explanation.

Our child's socks are wee, dainty treasures in Christian's large hands. It's a sweet visual, something I won't soon forget.

I pull out the romper, hold it against my chest, and point at the words.

Christian's jaw stiffens, and his eyes narrow.

"I'm pregnant."

Christian's mouth drops open, and he sucks in a shallow breath. He glances down at the socks, then gently touches the letters on the romper.

"And once again you surprise me, Miss Steele."


	21. Small Wonders

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 21**

 **Small Wonders**

 **Friday, June 10, 2011**

 **Christian**

FUCK. ME. IN. THE. HEART.

This can't be real.

Pregnant?

No! No! No!

Maybe Elliot put Anastasia up to some sick, fucked up joke.

No, that's not it.

Her face tells all.

Her beautiful face is a picture of strength and serenity.

I'm holding baby booties, for Christ's sake, and she's got an article of baby clothing on her chest.

Unbelievable.

What the fuck! What the hell am I going to do with a kid?

Anastasia feels so small and fragile in my lap. I don't want a child. I only want my sweet Ana.

I need more information. I must proceed cautiously and tread lightly. If I say the wrong thing, I'll upset her.

Perhaps there's been a mistake.

I dip my toe in the water.

"How?"

Anastasia shoots me a sideways glance and rolls her eyes.

"A tale as old as time. Penis in vagina with swimmers on the loose."

"I understand the obvious. When? Where?"

"The Heathman. Commencement."

That was such a perfect day.

"Did you take a test?"

She nuzzles her face into my neck. Her warmth soothes me.

"Of course."

"Perhaps the test was defective. A false positive."

"I suppose that's possible, but my intuition tells me I'm pregnant."

Intuition! Her fucking intuition tells her?

Anastasia and I obviously have different evidentiary standards. I require proof beyond a reasonable doubt. To that end, I send off two quick texts, one to Taylor, the other to Andrea. When they read these, they'll know exactly what's going on.

"Are you texting someone about my pregnancy?"

"You mean _our_ pregnancy?"

She didn't include me. I'm hurt. Does she not want me involved with our child? I'm so fucked up, I could understand if she didn't.

She shifts off my lap, flops her head back, and props her feet up on the coffee table. She won't look at me. She sighs, out of frustration, I think.

"Are you accepting ownership?"

What does she want me to say? I've never been in a situation like this.

I ignore her question.

"When did you take the test? What kind was it?"

"Early this morning. I went to Bartell's and bought a First Response. Why?"

"I've sent Taylor out to purchase more tests. I texted Andrea to get a gynecologist appointment, today if possible. I've also requested the company nurse. She should be here in a matter of minutes to check on your foot. I'm sorry, if I frightened you."

"Apology accepted. As sorry as you may be, and as much as I love you, I don't want to experience that again."

A hot wave of shame washes over me.

"That's never happened before."

"Really?" Her eyes challenge mine.

"I've acted out before, but not like that. Usually I just throw my phone."

"I won't have our child witness Daddy throwing tantrums."

"I understand, and I'm truly sorry."

I shift to pull her delicate frame back onto my lap. There's a knock at the door.

It's Sawyer with containers of food from the Fairmont.

"Everything okay, Ana? Sir?"

"Yes. Thank you for bringing our lunch." Anastasia speaks for the two of us.

Sawyer puts the bags on the coffee table. He eyes Anastasia protectively. After satisfying himself that all is well between us, he closes the door softly behind him. I'm sure Taylor has filled him in on my earlier misbehavior.

Anastasia takes my face in her hands.

"I know you're more than just a little freaked out by this. If you want to be a father, I welcome that. If you can't be a father, I'll be crushed, but I'll work through it. The baby isn't due until February, so we have lots of time to figure things out."

What the hell! Does she think I'd walk away from what's mine? Well, I did just throw two chairs and a table around the room, so she's well within rights to assume all sorts of things.

"Who knows about this?"

"Just you and me."

"Katherine?"

"No! I would never tell Kate without speaking to you first. It's just you and me. We should make decisions together. I hope that's what you want. But if you don't, I'll have to accept that. I don't want you to feel trapped."

She wants me involved, but only if that's what I want. She's offering me an exit.

I don't want a way out. I want a way in.

I want a way to Anastasia.

How does she do it? I'm scared shitless, but she seems at peace, calm, steadfast.

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Yes and no. If I think about it too deeply, I begin to get frightened. But I have to believe that this child is part of my journey. Our journey. What about you?"

"I'm stunned. I'm filled with fear, dread, a bit of sadness. And hope, too." Is it hope or happiness? My feelings are intense. I can't sort them out.

"Hope?" She beams at me.

"Yes, and other feelings I don't know how to name. Let's eat, then we can talk. You must eat."

"I do need food. I'm ravenous. A bit shaky, like my blood sugar is low." Anastasia unpacks the food. It smells and looks delicious: lobster bisque, Caesar salad, and an assortment of tea sandwiches.

We tuck into the food, each of us deep in our own thoughts. Anastasia really was hungry. I study her as she makes quick work of the soup and salad.

"That was so, so good. Thank you for lunch." Anastasia takes tiny bites of a sandwich.

"Do you feel different? Are you throwing up?"

"No morning sickness. I've been super hungry and tired the past couple of days. My boobs feel different. Tender. Sensitive."

"Could I make your tits feel better? I'm happy to accommodate your needs." It's been eight days, since I've been inside her.

"Your universe is turned upside down, but your libido doesn't suffer. I admire that in a man." She reaches up to stroke my cheek.

"Upside down. Yes, I suppose it will all start soon enough. Diapers. Shit. Crying." I'm trying to make sense of our new world order.

"If I'm feeling overwhelmed, I know you are, too. So before certain things are said, I want you to know exactly how I feel. My love for our child has no bounds. I'll carry our child to term and raise him or her, regardless of anyone else's opinions on the matter."

Does she think I want her to get an abortion? Put the child up for adoption? Those options aren't appropriate for us. Why would she think I'd want those things?

I know what I want. I want Anastasia. I need to tell her.

"I would never thwart your desire for motherhood."

"Do you have any idea what you want? What are your initial thoughts about our situation? You've been up front about how much you dislike the idea of fatherhood. I know you don't want a family. One of the many things I appreciate about you is your honesty. You've never misled me. That's why— "

I clamp my hand tightly over her mouth.

"Is verbal diarrhea a symptom of pregnancy? You should cease talking immediately. If I take my hand away, can you hold your tongue?"

I hope she's receptive to what I'm about to tell her.

Anastasia's eyes are wide. She nods, and I slowly pull my hand away.

"Baby, I'll take a side order of triplets, as long as you're the entrée. Just don't ever leave me."

"Christian." She whispers my name in praise and benediction, and launches herself at me, her arms around my neck. I pull her to me, squeezing her body tightly to mine.

Heaven.

"Here's how things will go. You and the child are mine. I always take care of what's mine. The two of you will live with me. Our child will have both a mother and a father. You will move in with me immediately, so I can be assured you're eating properly and getting enough rest. If you're pregnant, I want the best prenatal care. If you aren't pregnant, maybe you should be on the shot. You must safeguard your health, Anastasia. I can't live without you."

There's a knock at the door. I feel a loss, as Anastasia relinquishes our embrace.

It's Andrea. She ushers in a dark-haired middle-aged woman.

"Mr. Grey, Nurse Vasquez is here for Miss Steele."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele, I'm Judy Vasquez, nurse practitioner. What happened?"

"I'm a total klutz and have no business wearing heels. I lost my footing and fell against Mr. Grey's desk. I twisted my ankle. There's some bruising and swelling." Nurse Vasquez gently examines Anastasia's left foot, asking her to move it in different directions to check range of motion.

"You have a lateral strain. You've pulled a tendon on the outside of your foot." She wraps Anastasia's foot in a flexible cold pack, then wraps the foot in an ACE bandage. "You can put this cold pack in the freezer and reuse it. Keep your foot iced. Stay off it and keep it elevated as much as possible."

I've never met my company nurse before, but I'm impressed with her efficiency. She gives Anastasia some written instructions, and her business card with contact information.

My phone pings.

"It's Andrea. She's secured an appointment for you at 5 pm with Dr. Greene. Apparently Greene is reputed to be the top OB-GYN in Seattle."

"Do you know Dr. Greene?"

"No, why?"

"I just thought maybe…you know…your girls went to Dr. Greene?"

"They weren't _my_ girls, not the way you are. They had their own physicians, but they had to be cleared by Baxter, my personal physician. He evaluated their medical records, tested them for STDs, made sure they were on birth control."

"I see. I just wondered if the doctor might think I'm one of your submissives."

"No chance of that."

"Since I have an appointment, I need to go home and shower."

"Why?"

"If someone is examining my cooch, I'd like to freshen up."

"Cooch? Why, Miss Steele, that's the first time I've heard you use that word."

"It's one of Kate's favorites." My girl giggles, and the angels sing. "I miss her."

"You do?"

"Of course. She's my best friend. I can be myself with her." Anastasia realizes what she's said, and turns away.

"You can't be yourself with me?"

Anastasia is never evasive, but I've stumbled upon a stark truth. There's a tender place she doesn't want to travel with me. We have an appointment with Flynn tomorrow. If I bring this up, Flynn won't allow her to duck the issue.

"Can we save our heavy discussion for later? I'm exhausted. Stressed. I've been up since before 3 am, discovered I'm pregnant, completed a day's work, witnessed your meltdown. Would it be possible for me to take a short nap on this sofa?"

"Sure, but Taylor should be back any minute with those tests. Can you stay awake until then?"

"Do you have a disposable cup? Like a Solo cup?"

"Andrea can get one. Why?"

"So I can pee into it. For the tests."

Within a couple of minutes of texting Andrea, she arrives with a red Solo cup, and a bagful of pregnancy tests.

"Don't even think about getting up by yourself. Let me help you." I hand Anastasia the cup and bag, and carry her to my bathroom.

"Thanks for the assist. I'll take it from here."

"Oh, no, baby, I'm staying."

"To watch me pee?"

"Yes…no…yes, but only to observe the outcome of the tests."

To anyone else, I'd come across as a kinky effed-up bastard, but Anastasia giggles in amusement. She accepts my quirks and foibles. I can be myself in a way I've never been before. My beautiful girl makes my eccentricities feel okay.

"Are you afraid I'll switch out my pee for someone else's?"

We both laugh at the absurdity of the situation. With Anastasia, I can laugh at myself.

"I need to feel in control of every step. Please indulge me."

"Fine." She sits on the toilet, and I observe as she holds the cup under her, pissing into it. She hands me a nearly full cup of warm urine. "Knock yourself out playing medical lab."

Anastasia wipes and hobbles the three steps to the sink to wash hands. I can't take my eyes off her. She's so lovely. As soon as her hands are dry, I scoop her up again, and carefully place her on the sofa.

"I haven't said it, but I'm pleased you love and care for our child." That she can love me and my spawn should qualify as some kind of miracle.

"Really?" She smiles sweetly.

"Yes, I think you'll be the best kind of mother. You have a great capacity for love."

If only I had been born to an angel like my Anastasia.

"Your capacity for love is a match for mine. That's why we work."

"I've never considered why we work, but I'm grateful to have you."

She tenderly kisses the back of my hand.

"I don't think I can stay awake for those test results. Promise you won't let me nap longer than thirty minutes. How far away is my appointment?"

"It's at an office park next to Northwest Hospital. Taylor will take us."

"Us? You're going with me?"

"Yes. I'll be with you."

"Thank you." She's surprised, and pleased.

Anastasia is exhausted. She falls asleep as soon as she stretches out. Her round, firm ass is turned in my direction. I want to take her from behind, but she needs rest.

I test her urine. It's a simple matter of dipping the sticks into the cup, setting them aside, and waiting for lines to appear. Taylor purchased six different pregnancy tests. One by one, I watch them turn positive, and reality sinks into me, deeper and deeper.

I feel overwhelmed. I'm not prepared to be a parent.

What can I offer a child? Physical protection is top of the list. I can also provide the best medical care and education. These are only material things, of course, but these are positive contributions I can make to our child's life.

As I watch Anastasia, curled up asleep, slowly breathing in and out, my heart swells with love and adoration. Her quick and easy embrace of motherhood astonishes me.

A child.

I'll be twenty-eight when the child arrives, forty-six when the child graduates from high school.

I've been living day-to-day with Anastasia. It's contrary to my professional life, which has a five, ten, and twenty-year plan.

This child forces my hand, forces me to consider the future.

What do I want from Anastasia in five years? Twenty?

It's simple.

I want her in all ways, for always.

The only proper way to do that, especially with a child in the mix, is marriage.

Marriage is not something I've ever considered, but Anastasia is the exception to every rule.

Will she have me?

If she agrees, this will be the merger of a lifetime, my greatest acquisition.

I won't dither like Elliot. I'll propose at the earliest opportunity.

I recall Flynn's suggestion that I may subconsciously want to impregnate Anastasia. I remember telling him pregnancy was undesirable, but admitting pregnancy would be a way to have her. The idea of such a machination makes me queasy. Did I…do I…want Anastasia pregnant? Pregnant, so she is forced to rely on me? I don't believe I've purposely impregnated her, but a child will link us forever.

And I do want forever with Anastasia.

It's time to wake my sleeping beauty. I kiss behind her ear, and shake her gently. As I nibble on her neck, I hear a text come through.

It's Andrea.

 **Your agenda lists a gallery show in Portland at 7. Are you still attending? If so, should I coordinate with Taylor on travel plans?**

Shit. I'd take Charlie Tango, but I'm too tired, too emotionally drained to fly safely. This morning's flight from Taiwan means Stephan and Beighley have run out of crew day.

 **Find someone to fly CT to Portland. I'll fly CT back myself tomorrow morning. Make reservations at the Heathman for tonight.**

"C'mon, if you want to take a shower and change, we need to get going."

She's still half asleep.

"Am I really pregnant, or did I dream it?"

"The rabbit died, baby. Having second thoughts?"

"Not a single one. Are you okay?"

"Yes. We can do this, can't we?"

"Yes, we'll be fine. All three of us."

If Anastasia believes in a good outcome, I will choose to believe it as well.

XXXXXXX

"Taylor, do you mind swinging through the garage? I need to get something from my car."

I've never been inside Anastasia's parking garage. The spaces and traffic lanes aren't as wide as Escala's, but the garage is clean and well-lit.

"How many spaces does Katherine have?"

"Will you always call her Katherine?" My girl laughs at me. "Kate gets two spots. Her car is at Elliot's while she's gone, so Ethan is taking her spot. I use the other one. Stop here, Taylor. This is it."

I slide across the seat and get out behind her.

"A Prius is a safe, practical choice. I like it." Her silver Prius looks brand new.

"The Prius is Ethan's. Meet Wanda. She's mine." Anastasia gestures toward an ancient, rusty, blue Volkswagen Beetle.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Don't you like her?"

"Fuck no! You've been driving that piece of shit? It's a death trap."

Anastasia turns away from me, and crosses her arms in a defensive posture. I've hurt her feelings. I need to fix this.

"The car is quaint, I suppose. I know that appeals to you, but back when this car was built, seatbelts were an expensive option. This thing is basically a tin can on wheels. I won't have you and our child riding in an unsafe vehicle."

"I suppose you're right, but I have an attachment to her. Wanda once belonged to José's mother, and Dad bought her for me freshman year. Wanda represents my independence. I'm rather proud, that after my dad gave me the car, I took care of all the expenses."

"That is something to be proud of, but please allow me to buy you a new car."

"Since Sawyer has been my CPO, we rarely take Wanda. We primarily go in one of your SUVs. I don't really need a car. I suppose I can let Wanda go."

I let out a sigh of relief, and press a kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you for understanding."

XXXXXXX

"Hey, Christian, it's good to see you again."

Ethan Kavanagh extends his hand. He's Anastasia's friend, and will possibly become Elliot's brother-in-law, so it's important that we get on well. I need to make an effort.

"You, too. How was Barbados? Has my brother been behaving himself?"

"Elliot's great, fits perfectly with the fam. I've enjoyed getting to know him. Barbados is a blast. You and Ana will have to come with us next time. Ana has an open invitation, but she's never been able to make it."

"Sounds great. I'll talk to Anastasia about it."

"Our next trip will probably be Labor Day week."

"We'll definitely keep that in mind. Thank you for the invitation."

We stare at each other awkwardly. Unless Kavanagh wants to discuss the commodities market or Intel's latest microprocessor, I've got nothing.

"Need anything from the store, Ana? I'm heading out for beer and nacho fixings. There's a game on tonight. Gordo and Mutt are coming over."

"No, thanks. Christian and I are going to Portland overnight for José's exhibit. I'll text you if our plans change. Have fun with your buddies."

Buddies. I don't have any of those. There's Elliot, but he's my brother, and by extension he is forced to be my friend.

I follow Anastasia to her room. The door closes, and my dick gets hard with anticipation. I wrap my arms around her, and gently push her onto the bed.

"I need to be inside you, baby. It's been too long."

"Inside me? I don't think so."

"What? It's been over a week. I need to feel your hot pussy around my cock." I give her my best pout, because I know she has a weakness for it.

"No. I'll use my mouth."

Shit. My pout is losing its power. It's all I've got. Well, that and my dick.

"You can do that, too, but why can't I unload inside you? If you're pregnant, we don't need to worry about birth control."

"Absolutely not. The doctor will see your cum inside me. That's embarrassing."

"Okay, okay. I understand you not wanting to get dirty. But after that appointment is over, I'm taking you at our earliest opportunity. Understood?"

"Yes, my darling. Now let's get in the shower, and I'll take care of you. Strip out of that expensive suit and let me see that hard body of yours. I'll stick my head out and make sure Ethan left."

Anastasia returns, stripped to her red bra and panties.

"I'll assume Kavanagh is gone. You don't parade around like that in front of him, do you?"

"Never. Only for you." She looks me up and down. "Let me take off those boxers. I want to see all of you."

She yanks down my underwear, and I notice a large area of red marks on her right hip and the right side of her rib cage.

"What the hell are those marks?"

"Bruises. It must have happened when I fell against your desk."

"Do they hurt?"

"A little bit. I'm fine. Right now I just want to suck your big cock."

"Our time apart has made you bolder, Miss Steele."

"You've ruined me. I think about sex all the time."

Anastasia leads me by the hand into the Jack and Jill bath, which she shares with Ethan. She locks his entrance. Keeping her eyes fixed on mine, she unhooks her bra, letting it fall off her shoulders. She tosses it aside.

"Will you take off my panties, please?"

I show her how well I take direction. I trail kisses down her body, as I very slowly slide the panties off. When I get to her ankles, I lift her feet, first the right, then the left.

"Sit on the edge of the tub, baby." I unwrap her left foot. The bruising is dark red, almost purple. I kiss her bruises. "I'm sorry for acting like such an ass. I couldn't bear the thought of you leaving me."

"There's only one reason I'll leave you. Do you remember?"

She's training me, testing me. And I like it.

"If I break trust."

"Had you violated our trust?"

"No." I nuzzle my nose into her navel, and she strokes my hair.

"Then you had nothing to fear. Whether I stay or go is in your hands. You really are in control."

"I'm in control? It hardly feels that way."

I kiss her belly, and run my nose down into her pubic hair. Her musky sweetness is intoxicating.

"Yes, my darling. You are in control."

Anastasia takes my hand and pulls me into the shower. She says I'm in control, but the truth is, she owns me.

The warm water relaxes her. I can feel tension leave her body as I lap, nip, and suck her swollen clit. Soon her thighs shudder, her belly tightens. Her arousal has fueled mine, and I watch as Anastasia slowly takes me into her mouth, inch by sweet inch, in and out. The tremors of my release come quickly, in furious, convulsive jerks.

There isn't time for one of our long, relaxing showers, but my beauty allows me the pleasure of washing her. Her bruises provoke remorse and regret.

"I can see the wheels turning. You didn't cause the bruises. You would never hurt me."

"I'm embarrassed and ashamed for the way I acted."

"Did you learn from it?"

"Yes."

"Good. All done. I've said enough about it, and so have you."

We dress casually in jeans, and I sit on the edge of her bed, watching as she puts together an overnight bag.

I try to imagine Anastasia heavy with child. A strange feeling of pride and satisfaction fills me.

Yes! Everyone will know she is mine. How are such announcements made? I want everyone to know as soon as possible.

As Taylor loads our bags, I help her into the back seat. Anastasia seems distracted. She stares out the car window, drumming her fingers on her crossed knee.

"What are you thinking?"

"How to tell Dad. I don't want to disappoint him. I hope he'll be happy."

"How do you want to announce the pregnancy?"

"Let's just keep it our little secret for a while, if that's okay with you."

No! I want the world to know. Anastasia Steele is carrying the fruit of my loins!

"You do realize Taylor and Andrea know what's going on."

"They're discreet bystanders. It's not the same as our families knowing. Are you okay with keeping it to ourselves for a while?"

"Whatever makes you feel comfortable."

"You're so accommodating, Mr. Grey."

I want to shout it from rooftops, put an ad in the Times, and buy air time from all the local stations, but I'll respect Anastasia's wishes.

"I meant what I told my employees in the lobby this morning. You are the center of my universe. As long as I have you, I have everything. I'll have to share you with a child, but I suppose I'll adjust."

"I'll be sharing you with our child as well."

Anastasia squeezes my hand reassuringly, and tries to catch my gaze. I can't look at her. She knows I'm afraid, but I don't want her to see the depth of my fear.

"I can't promise what kind of father I'll be."

"You'll be the best."

"Ray Steele is the best."

"Don't compare yourself to anyone else. You have so much to offer a child."

"I can offer material things, but otherwise I'm lost."

"Stop with the self-loathing. There's no room for that in parenting. I can name a dozen attributes, right off the top of my head, that will make you the coolest dad ever."

"Coolest dad ever? I appreciate your confidence in me."

"What made my dad so great was his enthusiasm for the role, despite his lack of preparation. He doesn't have much education, but it didn't stop him from teaching me the value of it. He didn't have much money, but I had everything I needed. Dad made time for me every day, no matter how tired he was, even if it was just to give me a hug and ask about my day. You'll do just as well, probably even better."

"You think I can be a good father?"

"With every fiber of my being. I'm so proud to have you as my child's father."

My beautiful girl is crazy, delusional, high on love. Must be those feel good infatuation chemicals Flynn talked about.

"Will you help me?"

"Of course. And you'll help me. We'll be the formidable team your family knows us to be. This child will be dearly loved."

"A dozen attributes?"

"At least. Let me count the ways."

Her literary references always make me smile. She counts on her fingers.

"You're a genius. You have an eidetic memory, so this kid has no way of getting one over on the old man. You clearly have a head for business, turning a hundred grand into eleven billion. Think of the myriad skills you can teach our child. You can ski, ice skate, ride horses, and run ten miles at a pop. You're also the hottest piano virtuoso on the planet."

She undoes her seat belt and climbs into my lap.

"Number nine…the deep timbre of your voice is so beautiful, it makes my heart burst with joy…your ability to sing is very important, because you'll be solely responsible for any and all lullabies. I do hope Baby Grey inherits your musicality."

Her hands are in my hair, and she gives me a long, soft kiss.

"Wanna know a secret? When you sing or play piano, my panties get drenched."

Sweet Jesus, she's killing me. Fuck the appointment. Let's find a room.

Her tongue is halfway down my throat, and she's playing with my earlobes. It feels great.

"You pilot a helicopter and a glider. You sail and kickbox. You're a strong swimmer and you were on the Harvard row team. You excel at mathematics. You dance divinely. You're committed to keeping your family safe. You're obscenely handsome, sexy as fuck, and you know how to keep your child's mother _very_ happy, if you get my drift."

Anastasia gives me a flirtatious wink, and gently bites my left earlobe. Dear God, I wish I could take her here and now.

"Twenty-two is the most important attribute of all. You love fiercely, with your whole heart, and your love is the best thing I've ever known."

She has complete faith in me, and I don't ever want to disappoint her.

"I'll do my best. I don't want to be a shitty father."

"I won't let you be a shitty father, any more than you'll let me be a shitty mother."

Anastasia will show me the way.

XXXXXXX

"I haven't been to a doctor's office since I was a kid. I had no idea there was so much paperwork involved. The campus clinic wasn't nearly this complicated." She sticks the pen under the clip, and hands the clipboard to the receptionist.

"Anastasia Steele." We both turn toward the male voice.

What the fuck! I specifically requested a female physician. Who is this fucker? He's about my age, with dark hair, dressed in blue scrubs. He looks like he works out, but I'm sure I could take him down.

Anastasia has a big, shit-eating grin on her face. She knows I'm pissed.

I stand and reach for her hand.

"You're really coming in with me?"

"Absolutely."

"Control freak."

"Your control freak."

"Miss Steele, Mr. Grey. I'm Dr. Clark Kent, one of Dr. Greene's partners. Excuse the scrubs, but I just came from the hospital, and haven't had a chance to change. How are you today?" He's friendly, confident, and I can see how women might find him attractive.

"Please call me Ana. Clark Kent? That's really your name?"

My girl giggles and we follow Superman into a small room.

"Yes, my parents have an interesting sense of humor. Dr. Greene is across the street at the hospital checking on a patient who's in labor. It's Friday, and our nurses have left for the day. That's how you got stuck with me."

Oh, fuck no. This joker is not putting his hands on my girl.

"Perhaps we should reschedule. We specifically requested a female physician."

Anastasia gives me a sideways glance, silently calling me out. There was no 'we' involved in making the appointment.

"Is that what you want, Ana?" The fucker ignores me and only makes eye contact with my girl.

"Do you think Dr. Greene will return soon? Perhaps you could start the appointment, and she can do the actual exam. You see, I've never been to a gynecologist before, and—"

Yes, verbal diarrhea must be a symptom of pregnancy.

"It's okay, baby. Clark, we'd both feel more comfortable with a female."

"Fair enough. Ana, I'll do what I can without examining you. Hopefully, Dr. Greene will return soon. What brings you here today?"

"I'm pregnant. At least we're reasonably sure that I'm pregnant."

"Let's get some basic information, then we'll go over your history."

First up is Anastasia's weight and height. She's too thin, I think.

"63 inches. 105 pounds." Kent types this into a laptop.

"Baby, you need to eat more."

Kent raises a brow at my remark. Shit. I remember Mia saying a man should never comment on a woman's weight. I have so much to learn, things Superman here already knows. If I thought a sub needed to lose or gain weight, I assigned a deadline. If I issued such a directive to Anastasia, she'd tell me to hit the road. I'm learning, but the curve is steep.

"Ninety over sixty." Kent removes the blood pressure cuff.

"Isn't that too low?" The doctor looks at me with mild annoyance.

"No. It's on the low end of normal, and it's to be expected, given Anastasia's size and age."

He takes blood from Anastasia, who looks away nervously. I make goofy faces at her as a distraction, but not being practiced at such things, I probably look quite foolish.

Success! My girl laughs deliriously.

Kent admonishes her.

"Please be still. I need two more vials."

Anastasia sits up tall, and sticks her tongue out at me.

I return the playful gesture.

She's relaxed now, and I'm proud of myself for facilitating the change.

Anastasia is given a small lidded container for a urine sample. As she gets up for the bathroom, she looks at me expectantly. She's challenging me to follow her. I shake my head, and we both laugh out loud.

While she's gone, Kent and I ignore each other. I flip through a golf magazine, while he pages through the forms she filled out.

Upon Anastasia's return, Dr. Superman excuses himself.

"I'll test your urine sample. The results of the blood work won't be back until next week. Relax. Give me a few minutes."

I clasp Anastasia's hand, and she gives me a reassuring squeeze.

"He's nice enough, but you don't like him, do you?"

"I don't want any male seeing what's mine."

"I understand, because I don't want any female seeing what's mine. I do hope Dr. Greene gets back soon, though I'm impressed with the attention she gives patients who are in labor."

"Andrea did the research, and Greene is supposed to be Seattle's best. She has a stellar reputation. Mother knows her and speaks highly of her. My mother's office is just down the hall. I'm hoping we can get out of here without running into her."

"Yikes, I had no idea. As much as I'd like to see Grace, I don't want questions about us being in the building."

Superman returns with a big smile.

"Congratulations, you two. You are indeed pregnant."

Anastasia and I already knew this, but confirmation from a doc makes it feel more real. My girl and I look at each other, still in a bit of a shock.

"Let's go over your records, Ana. Is this your first pregnancy?" Kent looks back and forth between us.

"Yes. Christian and I have no secrets."

I give him the stink eye. Damn straight, Anastasia and I have no secrets.

"Great. It's important to be completely honest with your physicians, and with each other."

"Absolutely."

"No past surgeries or hospitalizations?"

"No."

"Psychiatric issues? Treatment for depression?"

"No."

"I looked over your screening questionnaire, and I find no signs of depression. It's important, however, for you to inform us if your emotional state changes during pregnancy."

"I will."

"I don't see any family medical history for either of you."

"My birth father died in an accident, and I know nothing of his family. My mother is alive and healthy, but there's never been contact with her family. Christian is adopted, and we don't know about his birth parents."

I had never considered our mutual lack of family history. It's another bond we share.

"Very well. Here's some literature on prenatal genetic screening. I'd suggest you read it before your next appointment, so you can make some decisions about testing."

He reads through Anastasia's forms.

"You're not a smoker, no recreational drugs, occasional alcohol...No alcohol during pregnancy. But you know that, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Any symptoms? Whether you think they are pregnancy related or not, I need to know."

"Extreme fatigue. I'm very hungry, craving dairy products. My breasts are tender."

"Nausea?"

"No."

"Perhaps you'll be part of the fortunate twenty percent who never experience morning sickness. Drug allergies?"

"None."

"Menarche was at eleven, and you have a 28-day cycle. Are your cycles regular?"

"Like clockwork. Never been late until now."

I'm learning all kinds of things about my girl.

"And the first day of your last period was May 12?"

"Yes."

"That makes the estimated date of conception May 26. Does that sound right?"

"Yes."

Anastasia was correct. Commencement was a banner day all the way around.

"According to my handy, dandy calculator, you are four weeks pregnant and your due date is February 16, 2012."

"Our baby will be our Valentine to one another." Anastasia whispers, genuinely pleased by the prospect. I've never celebrated Valentine's Day before. Another first.

"Here's a sample of prenatal vitamins to get you started. Take one every day, starting today, and eat a well-balanced diet. If you have a healthy craving, indulge in it. It's your body's way of telling you what it needs. Here's a list of foods to avoid."

I snatch the list from Kent's hand. I'll make a copy for Gail.

"Any questions?"

Anastasia shakes her head, but I have questions.

"What about sex?"

I've embarrassed my girl.

"Do what feels good, as often as you like, unless there are pregnancy complications. It's important for you to remain intimate. Desire usually increases in the second trimester, and tends to wane during the third."

"Why is that?"

"Swollen ankles, back pain, and pelvic pressure tend to inhibit a woman's libido." The doctor chuckles. "As girth increases, you may have to become creative at finding the right position. Orgasms during pregnancy tend to be quite intense, until the third trimester, when they become more difficult to attain."

"Thanks for the information." I want to know more, but I'll save it for an internet search. I shouldn't have asked. I don't want to discuss Anastasia's future orgasms and positions with this dickwad.

"Let's get you situated. I've texted Dr. Greene, and she should return soon."

Kent escorts us to an exam room.

"Remove everything and put on the gown, open to the front. Cover your lap with the sheet." I don't like this fucker telling my girl to take off her clothes. "Dr. Greene should be with you shortly. It was great meeting you both."

"You too. Thank you, Dr. Kent." Anastasia is unfailingly polite.

"Hop up on the table, baby, and let me help you." I lift her up onto the end of the table, and pull off her shoes.

"I don't think I can trust you. I don't want Dr. Greene to walk in on something."

"But this exam table has such possibilities. These stirrups have my imagination racing."

I kiss behind her ears, a spot which both tickles her and turns her on.

"Stop. Help me get into this gown. As I strip, can you please fold my clothes for me?"

As I assist Anastasia, I survey the room.

The room is feminine, painted in a light grassy green. On one wall are some botanical prints, tulips, and on the opposite is a counter with cabinets and drawers. There's a poster about breast self-exams.

"Do you check your breasts? For lumps."

"No. Do you want the job?"

"Sure. I'll take that on, but I think you should check my balls. For lumps. Every single day."

"It's a deal. How do I look in paper?"

"Beautiful."

"Until I met you, I never felt beautiful. Kiss me, Mr. Grey."

It starts out a soft peck on the lips. Our tongues entwine and a simple kiss quickly turns into something more. Her legs wrap around my waist and her hands squeeze my ass. My hands are inside the paper gown, roaming her naked body.

"I knocked, but apparently you couldn't hear me."

Anastasia and I push away from each other. The paper gown is askew, and the paper sheet is on the floor. Fully aroused, there's no hiding my rigid, needy dick. Dr. Greene looks directly at the bulge, smiles, and introduces herself.

"Miss Steele, Mr. Grey. It's a pleasure to meet you both. Congratulations on your pregnancy."

"Thank you. Call me Ana."

"Ana, it is. I consider Grace a dear friend and colleague, so of course, I'm happy to meet members of her family. She's a proud mother, and enjoys bragging rights."

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice." At last, I find my voice.

"Thank you for contributing five thousand to the March of Dimes in my name. It's much appreciated." Anastasia's eyes almost pop out of her head at the realization of how I got an appointment on such short notice.

Dr. Greene washes her hands while she speaks with us. She's very at ease, and like my mother, seems to be a 'people person.' Anastasia is a bit like that, someone who chats up random strangers.

"I've studied your chart, and I understand Dr. Kent has educated you on prenatal self-care. Correct?"

"Yes, Christian and I like Dr. Kent, but we feel more comfortable with a female physician conducting exams."

"Sure. Let's get started. Lie back and get comfortable. Raise your arms above your head. I'll check your breasts. I'm looking for lumps, irregularities, discharge from your nipples. Have you ever noticed any of those things?"

"No."

Dr. Greene has stolen my job. I should be the one checking Anastasia's breasts.

"Everything seems fine, Ana…my goodness, how did you get these bruises? Is this related to your foot injury?"

"Yes. I'm a complete klutz. I fell in Christian's office this afternoon."

"You fell? How?"

"Christian had been away on a business trip, and I wanted to dress up and look nice for him, so I wore Louboutins. He really likes Louboutins." Anastasia half-whispers and then blushes. It's so endearing.

"You wore those for me, baby? I thought you were dressed like that for a work thing."

"Only for you. I wanted you to realize you'd missed me."

"You'd look beautiful in anything." It's true. She'd look beautiful in a sack.

"Back to the accident, Ana. How did you fall?"

"I heard a loud noise at Christian's office door, and it startled me. My ankle turned and I fell back against his desk. Christian called his company nurse, and she wrapped my foot."

Anastasia glosses over the source of the loud noise.

"Mr. Grey, could you please excuse yourself, while I speak to Ana?"

What the hell is this about?

"No. I don't want him to leave. We're doing this together. Whatever you need to say, you'll say in front of Christian."

Anastasia pushes herself up on her elbows, and fixes a glare at Dr. Greene.

"Are you sure, Ana?" Is the doctor questioning my girl's judgment?

"Of course, I'm sure. Christian and I have no secrets."

"Really? Is that true, Mr. Grey? No secrets?"

Where the fuck is Greene's accusatory tone coming from?

"No secrets, Dr. Greene. Say what you want to say."

"Ana, have you ever been abused?"

"No! Are you suggesting Christian inflicted these bruises?"

"I'm doing my job, Ana. About 15% of all women with unintended pregnancies end up being abuse victims. Pregnant women in general are vulnerable to abuse, but unplanned pregnancies make a woman particularly susceptible. I'm guessing this pregnancy falls into the category of unexpected."

I'm beyond pissed, but for the sake of Anastasia and my mother, I'll try to remain calm.

"Dr. Greene, this pregnancy is a surprise, but not an unhappy one. Anastasia and I are very much in love, and thrilled to start a family."

As I say the words, I realize they're true. This fuels my fervor and need to set the doctor straight.

"I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Grey, but given your lifestyle, I'm not completely convinced."

Shit. Has she treated any of my subs? Under the guise of doctor-patient confidentiality, did one of them decide to tell all?

"Lifestyle? What would you know of my lifestyle?"

"I apologize, Mr. Grey. I've said too much. As a physician, I have a duty to patient advocacy, and I'm simply looking out for Anastasia's interests."

"Tell me what you know of my lifestyle? What have you heard?"

I'll get Welch on this. If Greene has treated any of my subs, I want to know.

"Nothing worth repeating. I do apologize."

"Christian would never hurt me, or our child. He's loving and protective. He couldn't wait one day to get prenatal care for me. He sought you out, because he only wants the best for me and our child. I fell and I bruised. End of story."

"Very well. I'll document your injuries and check them again at your next visit. Your breast exam findings were normal. The next part can be a bit uncomfortable." Dr. Greene pulls on gloves. "Scoot down the table until you feel my hand."

Anastasia looks at me with apprehension. I need to comfort my girl. I take her hand, turning it over and over in mine, in the same way she always soothes me.

"Put your feet in the stirrups. You'll need to spread your knees farther apart."

"Relax, baby, and spread your legs." I use my Dom voice, and Anastasia parts her knees wide.

Dr. Greene throws her head up and a visible shiver runs through her. I take some satisfaction in knowing the good doctor has been affected by me.

"Erm, Ana, I'm, I'm going to place a speculum inside you. Uh, I've warmed it up, but I'm using lubricant, so you may feel, um, wetness. So, yeah, I'm going in with the speculum now."

Anastasia hasn't missed a thing, and she looks aggravated as hell. Dr. Greene can barely form a sentence, because she's so hot and bothered. I'm going to hear about this later from Anastasia.

"You'll feel a sharp pinch. I'm scraping off a few cells for a Pap smear, and also to test for STDs."

I soothe Anastasia. I whisper in her ear.

"I'm proud of you, baby. You're so beautiful, and I love you so much."

Dr. Greene pulls out the speculum, and with two fingers in Anastasia's vagina, she pushes and presses on her abdomen. The very last is a rectal exam.

"Relax and take deep breaths. Bear down like you're having a bowel movement. Good. Everything looks fine, Ana. I'm going to perform a transvaginal ultrasound."

Dr. Greene wheels in an ultrasound machine. She pulls out a probe, which she calls a transducer. It's phallic in appearance, and too much like a dildo for my liking. She slides on a condom, and applies lube. The idea of anything other than me going inside my girl is quite upsetting. If I'm completely honest with myself, I'm jealous of Anastasia's tampons.

"Let's take a peek and see what's happening."

I hold Anastasia's hand, and lower myself, my head next to hers, so we can watch the screen together. Dr. Greene inserts the probe.

"Are you okay?" I stroke her hair, and Anastasia nods.

"There's your uterus, Ana. See that dark area in the middle? That's the gestational sac. We can't see your baby yet, but he or she is growing there."

"Our baby is in there. Look, Christian!"

My vision blurs, and I realize my eyes are brimming with tears. I heave a loud sob.

"Oh, baby, you give me all the things I never thought I could have."


	22. Moving Forward

**This chapter is dedicated to mel.112109. Thank you, dear heart!**

 **The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 22**

 **Moving Forward**

 **Friday, June 10, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

Dr. Greene hands me two copies of the sonogram.

"See you again in four weeks."

Christian huffs dismissively.

"I don't think so. You crossed a line when you referred to my lifestyle. Which lifestyle were you referencing? My wealth? My fitness regime? Something you read in a gossip rag? Or something else, something one of your patients told you? No matter. I'll find out. Have a nice life."

Dr. Greene's eyes widen and she takes a step back.

Christian leads me into the corridor. He winks and points to the left.

"Mother's office is that way. If we're quick, we can sneak away."

With a mischievous grin, he puts a finger to his lips, tiptoes to the elevator bank, and quickly stabs the button. Adorable. I love playful Christian.

As soon as the elevator doors close, he's all over me.

"Not so fast, Mr. Grey. You can't go around making other women cream their pants, and then try to get inside mine."

"I thought maybe you'd noticed Dr. Greene's reaction."

"Reaction? She combusted right in front of us. You are mine, and you are never doing that again."

"It wasn't deliberate. If you recall, my words were meant for you. She just happened to be in the way."

"True, but you need to rein in your charm and sexpertise. Those are weapons to be respected and used judiciously. Only with me."

"Oooh, I like jealous Anastasia." He nuzzles my neck, kissing my ear. His breath tickles, and I break into goosebumps.

"Hmph. If you see jealous Ana very often, I guarantee you won't be so fond of her anymore. Familiarity breeds contempt, you know."

"Thus far, familiarity with Miss Anastasia Steele has made my heart fonder and my dick harder."

When we arrive at the lobby, Taylor is waiting. Ever the gentleman, Christian helps me into the car. After climbing into the other side, he leans his head on my shoulder and licks my neck. It's so unexpected, so unlike him.

"You're such a goober. I like it." I rarely see his silly side, and each time it brings me great joy.

"I'm happy, and all because of you. Happier than I ever thought I could be. It's more than I deserve, but I'll take it. I'm a greedy bastard."

"You've just had confirmation of impending fatherhood, and you're so ebullient. These are the times when I wonder if you have a mood disorder." I tease him, and reach up to steal a kiss.

"You can ask Flynn about my mood swings tomorrow. Shit. I'll need to order cigars. Not that bubble gum crap I get from my employees. A few months ago, some yokel passed out Hershey bars. I'll get special labels made for my favorite Cubans, Partagás. How many thousand should I order? Hmm. I'll let Andrea figure that out."

Christian smokes cigars? And he must truly be happy if he wants to pass out cigars to his employees and business associates. Every day I learn something new about my favorite person.

"Some people, myself included, prefer a chocolate bar. There's plenty of time to arrange everything. You're already passing out cigars, and our baby is barely a blip."

"Blip. Has a nice ring. I like it."

"You're happy?"

"Euphoric."

His eyes twinkle sterling, and he dazzles me with a million kilowatt smile.

My beautiful man. Mine.

"I was afraid to tell you." I confess.

"You had reason. I was firmly resistant to parenthood. But now I've tried on the idea of children, and I like it."

"Children? Plural?" I'm shocked that he'd consider having more than one.

"Baby, how many do you want?"

Full disclosure.

"Three." Now I'm the greedy one. I should compromise. "At least two."

"No."

My stomach sinks.

"No?"

"Go big or go home. I'm thinking a baker's dozen."

Holy crap! I want more children, but I've no intention of becoming a broodmare. Has he suddenly discovered "Nineteen and Counting"?

He grins from ear to ear.

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Yes, I lost it, when I met you. Thirteen could be a lucky number for us." Christian runs his nose along mine.

"You don't believe in luck, remember?"

XXXXXXX

We left Dr. Greene's office just before six. I worried that we wouldn't make it to José's show, but it only takes twenty minutes to reach Christian's helicopter. Charlie Tango waits for us atop Escala, his apartment building. I was hoping for a peek at Christian's penthouse, but there's no time for that.

"It'll take a little over an hour to get to Portland. We'll go straight to the show, and then we'll have dinner."

"Here's Joe." A bearded gray-haired man joins us. He and Christian shake hands, and exchange warm hellos.

"Anastasia, this is Joe, my co-pilot. He's coming along as a second pair of eyes. Joe, meet my girlfriend, Anastasia Steele."

"Nice to meet you." Joe has kind brown eyes, like Dad's.

Christian helps me into Charlie Tango, and straps me in, pulling on the buckles, adjusting the harness, until he's satisfied I'm properly contained.

"That should keep you out of trouble."

Taylor climbs in beside me, nods his head in greeting, and gives a tight-lipped smile.

"Ma'am…Ana." Taylor corrects himself, which pleases me. "Sawyer will be in Portland waiting for us. He drove one of the SUVs."

Christian pops headphones onto my head.

"With these cans you'll be able to hear all the traffic, and talk to me. Taylor and Joe also have headphones, so whatever you say to me, they can hear." Christian winks lasciviously.

He kisses me and takes his seat directly in front of Taylor. Joe sits in front of me. I'm pleased to have a view of Christian's beautiful profile. His angular jaw and his square, manly chin do things to me.

Both Taylor and Joe possess an avuncular geniality. Christian seems as close to these two as he is to anyone outside his family. Does Christian regard these men as friends or employees? Maybe both. I understand so little about my boyfriend's life.

Christian said he was tired, but he gets a second wind as he commands Charlie Tango. I see how flight exhilarates, challenges, and relaxes him. I'm in awe of his abilities. I listen attentively to the radio calls. They make little sense to me, but I find the exchanges fascinating.

Hell, every facet of Christian and his crazy life is fascinating to me.

As the sun begins to set, my gorgeous lover lands Charlie Tango on the roof of a brick building in downtown Portland. He ducks out of his seat and opens the door to help me out.

Joe is left to deal with Charlie Tango.

"Keep your head down." He takes my hand and protectively pulls me to a door. Taylor is right behind us. We walk down several flights of stairs, and meet Sawyer, who's been waiting for us with one of the SUVs.

"Let's go see your friend's pictures. What should I expect?"

"Breathtaking landscapes. That's what José does best. There may be a few portraits." José threatened to display the bikini photos of Kate and me, but I'm sure it was just a joke.

Portland Place is a converted warehouse. It's airy, spacious. The walls are brick, the floors, a dark hardwood. The tin ceilings, trim, and pipework are painted a creamy white.

It's past eight, and the show is in full swing. There's a line to the bar. It's a convivial crowd, and as they mill about, all appear quite taken with José's work.

"Welcome to José Rodriguez's show." A young woman with short dark hair, glasses, and bright coral lipstick greets us. She smiles at me, then ogles Christian, dragging her eyes up and down him twice. When she's completed her visual feast of my man, she focuses on me in recognition. Have we met before? Maybe she saw Bandi's interview.

"Oh, you're Ana. It'll be interesting to get your take on things. You're garnering a great deal of attention."

Mousy Ana from Montesano is with the dynamic, debonair Christian Grey, so I guess that would cause notice.

I feel Christian's arm around my shoulder, and I wrap mine around his waist.

"Do you see Rodriguez? The quicker we find him, the sooner we can get dinner. The sooner we eat, the sooner I'll be inside you."

"We need to socialize a bit. It would be rude to leave quickly. There's Becca. Oh, and Marisol."

Christian groans.

"Ana!" Becca pulls me into a hug. "Hello, Christian. You remember Marisol."

"Yes. Good to see you both again." He's being sociable on my behalf, leaning over to give Becca a kiss on the cheek. He offers his hand to Marisol. I'm touched, and I reward his efforts with an appreciative smile.

"Have either of you seen the man of the hour?" I've scanned the gallery a couple of times, but no sign of José.

"He's over there being interviewed _._ If you wanna catch him, walk over and wait nearby. He's got groupies. Check out the babes. You'll have to push your way in."

I see young women lingering nearby hoping to meet José. Christian and I stand a few feet off to the side. Some of the females divert their attention to my man. This is something I must learn to live with, if I plan to be with Christian.

We wait with our arms around each other. Christian feels so safe, so strong. As if he can read my mind, Christian leans over and whispers, "Wrapping myself around you feels so natural, so right. I love you, baby."

"I love you, too."

He kisses me sweetly, softly.

José spots us, and waves, smiling broadly. He's wearing a suit, and he looks quite handsome. I'm proud of him and his achievements.

The reporter asks José something, and they stroll over to greet us.

"Mr. Grey, I'm Harry Bonner, for the _Oregonian_. May I take a photo of you and Mr. Rodriguez? I understand the two of you are acquainted."

"Sure, but only if my girlfriend agrees to be in the photo. This is Anastasia Steele."

"You're the muse." Christian and I exchange puzzled glances. Muse? "Yes, I'd definitely like photos with all three of you."

Bonner poses us, me in the center, which Christian isn't thrilled about. I guess he doesn't like José's arm around me.

Christian grants a very brief interview to Bonner.

"How do you and Mr. Rodriguez know each other?"

I listen to Christian's carefully chosen words.

"I'm socially acquainted with José Rodriguez through my girlfriend, Anastasia Steele. He's extremely talented. Anastasia and I are here in support of José. I'll add some of his work to my private collection and also to my public collection at Grey House."

There are questions having to do with Christian's support of the arts and his aversion to social media.

As soon as Bonner leaves, two more reporters approach, from the _Portland Printz_ and the _Portland Tribune_.

Because Christian knows best about such things, I defer to him on press coverage. He gives permission for more photographs, and we pose again with José. Christian grants permission for the two reporters to each ask one question.

"Thank you for coming, Ana. It means a lot. I appreciate Christian coming as well. His attendance spotlights my work."

"Wouldn't have missed it. This is wonderful."

José kisses me on the cheek. It's old times again, and things feel back to normal.

Christian watches us, and as soon as he sees the cheek kiss, he cuts off the reporters.

"I was just thanking Ana for coming. I appreciate your kind words about my work." José extends his hand. "I was an ass last time we spoke. Friends?"

"Sure." They shake hands. They're doing this for me, and I'm grateful.

"The gallery room in the middle has photos of you, Ana. None of the work is for sale, but it's been getting a lot of attention. I hope you like the images I selected. I'll catch up with you two again before the night is over. Laters."

Christian shakes his head in irritation.

"Elliot's sphere of influence has even reached Rodriguez."

"Yes, they bonded during the move to Seattle."

The gallery room José referred to is a modular space created with three portable walls. Travis stands at the entrance.

"Travis! I was hoping to see you here."

We share a quick hug.

"You look great. How's Seattle?"

"Fabulous. You remember Christian?"

"Sure. Hey, man, good to see you. I'm here because of you."

"Me?" Christian's antennae go up. Caution and suspicion ooze from him.

"Yes. My job is to make sure no one pulls out cell phones and takes photos in here. José said you and Ana are very private."

Travis points at a sign.

 **Private collection.**

 **No photography allowed.**

There are seven huge portraits of me in varying poses, but it's clear they were taken on the same day. In each, I'm wearing an oversized sweater. The sweater covers my tush and ends at the top of my thighs.

"Jesus, were you in the photographer's bed? Where were your bra and panties?" Christian whispers in my ear, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Calm down. We were in Kate's bedroom, and Kate was present the entire time. I was wearing panties."

"There are more pictures of you. Shit. You and Katherine frolicking in bikinis. Jesus, those shorts leave nothing to the imagination. And that dress shows cleavage."

Christian's reaction irritates me. Why can't he just tell me I look nice?

"I did have a life before I met you."

I throw his Montana words back at him. Of course, Christian's prior life consisted of one Domme, fifteen contracted submissives, and dozens of casual club encounters. My life was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with José.

"Your smart mouth isn't helping things."

I turn away from Christian and happily discover that not all the photos are of me. There are several images of Kate, Becca, and other friends, both male and female. There are even a couple of my dad and José, Sr.

"Christian, here's the kiss photo of you and me at graduation."

"I want copies of these. What I really want is the originals, all copies, and the negatives. I don't like Rodriguez's so-called private collection."

Christian sighs in exasperation. Where has his cheerful exuberance gone?

We say our goodbyes to Travis, and stroll through the main gallery. I was with José when he shot many of the pictures, so I'm able to tell Christian about them.

"Baby, pick out some of these pictures for Grey House, and then choose some you'd like to see in our home."

" _Our_ home?"

Christian's voice deepens, and he towers over me.

"You _**are**_ moving in with me, so the penthouse will be _**our**_ home."

"Since we're co-parenting, I do need to move in at some point. We haven't really discussed a time table, and I don't want to do that here."

I'd like nothing more than to share Christian's bed, but I need to know more about Christian's day-to-day routine. I haven't even seen his apartment yet.

"You're agreeing to live with me?"

"Yes, but I don't want to leave Kate yet. We've barely unpacked, and haven't spent one night together at the Pike Place apartment."

Christian's face contorts in pain, and his eyes narrow.

"Shit. As soon as I think you've agreed, there's some caveat. I thought it was settled."

Is this Dom Christian or CEO Christian? He's acting hella bossy right now.

"Settled? You never asked me. You ordered it up. A Christian Grey edict."

"I'll ask you. Will you please move in with me?" He's a petulant school boy.

"Can we discuss this later?"

"Fine."

He rolls his eyes and purses his lips. His arms are folded across his chest. Why do I find that so adorable? I guess I'm not the only one with issues.

"Stop pouting. You know that gets to me. You're shamelessly manipulating me." I put my arm around his waist again, and try to shake him out of his bad mood. "Since you enjoy spending your money, let's shop. Did you see something that stood out?"

"The Lake Sylvia series, the spot where your dad took you fishing."

"Those are my favorites, too. How about for your apartment?"

"Yes, for _our_ apartment. Now what about Grey House?"

"What did you think of those huge blow-ups we saw near the entrance? Sunset at Eunice Lake and Dawn at Narada Falls. The oversized scale would work well in one of your lobbies."

"You have a good eye, Anastasia."

"You bet I do. I snagged the best looking man on the planet." I want to grab his ass, but we're in public, so I shove my hands inside his sleeves and stroke his forearms. I lean into him and press a kiss to his neck.

"Sweet mother of God. Baby, I want to fuck you right here and now."

Everything south of my navel clenches with desire. I want to be naked with my man.

"Hurry up and pay for those pictures. Let's have dinner in bed."

 **Christian**

"Don't stop. Oh, fuck, that feels soooo good." Anastasia's back arches.

I'm eating guacamole from my girl's pussy. When she said she wanted dinner in bed, I had Taylor get take-out from Raul's. He also picked up Corona for me and vanilla ice cream for Anastasia.

"Baby, your juices pair well with Mexican. I think this should become a regular weekly thing. We're out of guac, so I'm spreading frijoles on your snatch."

The refried beans are thick and heavy, requiring more tongue pressure. I do believe my girl enjoys the warmth of the beans, and I gobble away at them. As I clear away the beans, there is increased contact with my tongue, and I can feel her getting close. I nip her bud gently with my teeth, pushing her to orgasm, and not a minute too soon. Her stomach has begun growling with hunger.

"I'm starving. Let me eat your dick." She rearranges the towels beneath us. "I don't know how I'm going to eat ceviche off your balls, and not make a terrible mess."

"No ceviche for you. You're pregnant, remember?"

She sighs loudly.

"As if I could forget, but you're right. No ceviche."

I shouldn't need to remind her of this. She should be more mindful of her diet. I need to give Sawyer the list of proscribed foods. He can't spy for me, but acting as food monitor shouldn't be out of bounds.

"How about the queso? That's allowed on your diet."

I've had chori-queso many times before, and nobody makes it like Raul's. It's a savory mélange of creamy Mexican cheese, chorizo sausage, onions, and tomatoes.

"Yes! There's a quart of it. Bet I can eat the whole thing. Gonna be warm. Roll on your side, so I can dip your wick in the container."

"Just give him lots of attention. He's been missing you."

"No worries. I'll show your big boy plenty of love."

After she coats my cock with the cheesy mixture, she uses the back of a plastic spoon to spread it over my balls.

She eats a spoonful of the queso.

"Sweet lord. Other than your dick, this stuff is the best thing I've ever put in my mouth."

She begins with my balls, quickly licking them clean. The crown of my cock is almost uncomfortably warm. As she nibbles the base, a strange, unfamiliar sensation of extreme heat tingles the tip. My dick throbs, and not in a good way.

Mother of God! I look down, expecting to see flames shooting from my shaft.

"Shit, baby!"

"You like that? I haven't even gotten started yet."

Something has gone terribly wrong. Holy fuck!

"NOOOOO! I don't like that! My goddamn dick is on fire!"

I hear screams of pain, and realize they're coming from me.

"What's wrong? What have I done?"

"That shit has hot peppers!"

"A few jalapeños, but nothing too heavy."

"Well, they're too goddamn heavy for my cock. FUCK!"

Anastasia has tears running down her face.

"I'm so, so sorry. It never occurred to me. Get in the shower and wash it off. I think milk is the antidote, but let me check the internet."

I recall seeing a small container of sour cream in one of the bags from Raul's. I frantically dig until I find what I'm looking for. I sprint to the bathroom and slather white cream all over my tackle. I inspect what I thought was sour cream, but it doesn't look right. A taste tells me it's ranch dressing.

Holy shit! The dressing just makes the pain worse.

Anastasia follows me into the bathroom with the laptop, tapping away. I turn on my customary hot water, and jump into the shower, cursing and moaning. She's crying, upset. It's not her fault. It's Mexican food, and I never considered the capsaicin in the peppers.

Soap and water aren't doing a thing to help. If anything, it's compounding my suffering. I'm in pain and misery, and I'm trying my best not to cry like a little girl.

"Have you finished washing?"

"Yes, but it still burns like a son of a bitch. In fact, it's worse than ever."

This gives new meaning to the song "Sex on Fire."

"Oh, my gosh, Christian, it says here not to use hot water. At most, it should be tepid. Dairy is the antidote. We have the ice cream."

Good thing Anastasia is already knocked up. I don't know if my dick can survive.

"When I said I burn for you, I didn't mean like this."

She puts the toilet seat down.

"Sit. Stick your man meat in the ice cream. The internet says you should be better within fifteen minutes."

Anastasia quickly chows down huge spoonfuls of the ice cream to make space. She gently presses my flaccid package into the quart sized container. Vanilla ice cream spills out over the carton and she laps up as much as she can. My girl is hungry.

"Ahhh, yessss. I don't want to hurt your feelings, baby, but right now this feels almost as good as your pussy."

"Christian, I'm sorry. I hate seeing you in pain like this. The peppers never occurred to me."

Anastasia sits cross-legged, naked, on the cold bathroom floor. Her eyes search mine. Her hands stroke my calves.

She's so goddamn beautiful.

"It's okay, baby. I wasn't thinking either. Don't beat yourself up."

"It's…I want your time with me to be different."

"Different from what?"

"Your abusers."

Oh, shit. She thinks the pain has dredged up memories of the pimp and Elena. Until she brought it up just now, neither had crossed my mind.

"Nothing we do could ever be like my past. I'm a survivor, and you are my reward."

"Next time let's try mashed potatoes and meatloaf."

" _Next time_. I like the sound of that." I give my beauty a reassuring kiss.

"Let's finish off dinner, and go to bed. It's getting late. Think you'll feel up to giving me a thorough fucking in the morning?"

"We aim to please, Miss Steele."

 **Saturday, June 11, 2011**

 **Christian**

" _You little shit. I'll teach you to answer your phone when I call." I'm bent at the waist, draped across Elena's bondage horse, restrained at wrists and ankles. Elena shoves a six-inch plug of shaved ginger root up my ass, then reaches underneath and roughly grabs my penis. She gives my cock a couple of strokes, then shoves a matchstick of ginger into my meatus. The pain is excruciating. Elena snickers in amusement._

 _The pimp's face comes into view. He flicks open a Zippo lighter, and holds the flame to my back. He and Elena laugh as a blaze erupts from my body. I'm on fire, and will surely die. I call out, but there's no one to rescue me._

"Christian. Wake up." Anastasia straddles me and gently shakes my shoulders. "Everything's okay."

"Sorry, baby. Didn't mean to wake you."

"It's after six, so we should probably be getting up anyway. Wanna talk about it?"

"Old memories got jumbled up. The jalapeños triggered it. Having you here makes it all better."

Anastasia climbs off me, and crawls back under the sheet with me. I pull her against me, spooning her tightly. I lay tender kisses at the nape of her neck. Reaching to her front, I fondle her breasts. She's soft and warm, and her musky vanilla fragrance is sublime.

"Is the fire out?"

"Never. It always burns for you, baby. I'm going to keep this fire stoked, so it never, ever burns out."

"That's really sweet, but I'm not talking about our passion. I'm referring to that rather prodigious penis of yours. How's your jalapeño injury?" She reaches back to stroke my thigh.

"Everything appears in working order." My erection is wedged in her ass crack. "Vanilla seems to be the cure for all that ails me."

"I need to brush my teeth—"

"No. You always taste good to me."

I roll her over so she's facing me. She smiles and cups my face with her cool, smooth fingertips. My tongue traces the fullness of her lips. Anastasia giggles at the sensation. I capture her lips. Her response is eager, breathy. She wants me, as much as I want her.

This sexual connection we share is a continual wonder to me.

I want her mouth on my chest again, and I want to try new things, new sensations.

"Put your tongue on my chest again. Like you did in Montana."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, but let me hold your hands. And if you want to use your mouth anywhere else, that's okay, too."

"Oh, my God. Really?" Her eyes alight in anticipation.

"Really."

Anastasia kisses my eyelids, my mouth, my chin. She stops at the hollow of my neck, running her tongue up and down between my jugular notch and Adam's apple. Following the curve of my clavicle, she kisses and licks her way from one side to the other. Her silky veil of long, chestnut hair brushes against my scars, but it feels as light as a summer breeze.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, baby, keep going."

Anastasia's tongue travels down my sternum to the patch of hair she likes so much. Her sweet mouth makes its way to my diaphragm, leaving wet kisses in its wake. I squirm against her tongue as it tickles my belly button. It's a strange, pleasurable sensation. She kisses her way down to my nether regions, and I release her hands. She strokes my balls and deep throats me.

"Not yet, baby. Not yet."

She kisses her way back up to the tuft of hair on my sternum. How does something so simple feel so good?

"Anywhere?" Her eyes search mine.

"Yes."

 _I am not afraid. I am not afraid. I am not afraid._

Snippets of a conversation with Flynn come back.

 _Christian, there is no reason why you shouldn't have romance, marriage, and children. There is no reason to live with haphephobia forever. Do you think Anastasia would settle?_

Anastasia's mouth covers mine, and she strokes my cock.

Her touch feels godly, consecrated, holy. Her touch is different from anything I have ever known.

"Touch me. Touch the scars."

It's Anastasia, and I have nothing to fear.

Her eyes widen, and she gives me an almost imperceptible nod.

She slowly pumps my hard, needy cock. She starts in the middle of my chest again, kissing and licking, working her way to the scars scattered across my pecs. She tenderly kisses each one, and gently runs the fingers of her left hand across them. As she reaches the last one, I ejaculate in her right hand, ropes of cum spilling over her fingers.

"Christ, how did that happen?" I was on sensory overload, and lost control. My girl has that effect on me.

Anastasia beams with pride and jubilation. She licks her cum covered hand. Yep, that's my girl.

"I thought a handy might take your mind off your discomfort. Did you feel pain?"

"No, baby. No. It felt good. Great. All of it felt great."

"You let me touch you. My God. I really touched you."

"I'm afraid to get too excited about it."

I hope this means she can touch me again. I'd ask her to try again now, but I'm afraid I'll react badly, and spoil this perfect moment.

"How about a bath? Maybe I can wash your back?" She wants to touch the scars on my back. She wants to show me more of her amazing love.

"Sure, but I want to take care of you first."

"I won't say no." Anastasia giggles, grabs my hand, and pulls me to the tub. As it fills with water, I use my mouth to lavish her lush breasts with attention.

"That's oh so nice, but I need you inside me. Let's get in the tub."

I climb in first, and pull her astride me.

"What do you want?"

"You inside me, just like this. I want to ride your dick."

She's a wonder to watch, as she takes charge of her own pleasure.

"I want to touch you. If I try something, and you don't like it, just say stop."

"Okay." I pull in a deep breath and hold it.

Anastasia lightly runs her fingers in a feather soft pattern over my belly, then up my sides to my armpits. She tickles me. I'm startled by the sound of my own laughter. My reaction triggers giggles and snorts from my girl.

"Touch me, baby."

I can do this.

She lowers both palms and presses them lightly across the top of my chest.

No pain. Nothing except the warmth of Anastasia's hands.

With her fingertips she lightly caresses the scars, then runs her hands up and down the length of my chest. She surprises me with more tickles, then slips her hands behind my back.

"Are you okay?"

My beautiful woman is a constant source of wonder. She always seems to know what I need.

"Yes. Keep going."

Her hands are all over me, as she rides rhythmically up and down my shaft, slowing for an occasional grind. Water sloshes over the side of the tub, and the sound of it blends with her soft groans, creating a special song.

Her touch was made for me. Anastasia, and every inch of her, was created only for me.

I study her as she chews on her luscious pink bottom lip. Her mouth slackens and she begins to pant.

"God, you are so beautiful. We're getting married tomorrow. Monday at the latest. I want you to be mine in every way."

"Yours," she grunts.

"Tell me you'll marry me."

"Huh?"

"Say yes. Say you'll marry me this week." She's close. "Say yes. Then come for me."

"Yesssss. Ahhhgggg."

Her velvety heat pulses around my dick, and I empty myself inside her. Anastasia falls against me, her palms flat on my chest.

"So good, Christian. It's always so good."

"Yes, baby. We're good together."

"The water's getting cold." She pushes herself up, and pulls the lever, lets out some of the cool water, and turns on the hot, all while keeping one hand on my chest.

"Are you afraid to let go?" I chide her.

"A bit. I don't want our connection to end. How does it feel?" Her bare hands are lathering me with grapefruit body wash.

"No pain. It feels incredible. I think we've cleared a hurdle."

"How? It almost seems too easy."

"It seems that way to you, but this was hard fought."

She has no idea how difficult it has been for me to let go. I've never trusted anyone the way I trust Anastasia. Not my parents, not my siblings. Certainly not Elena.

We have a great deal to share with John at our appointment this morning.

"I'm proud of you. Proud of us. I love you, Mr. Grey."

"And I love you, soon-to-be Mrs. Grey."

"About that. We need to talk."

"You agreed to marry me as soon as I can arrange it."

"I was on the cusp of an orgasm. I would have agreed to marry Satan." Her lips curl into a wry smile, and one slender brow arches in amusement.

"Ouch. That hurts, baby. But a deal is a deal."

"I want to marry you, but I don't want pregnancy to be the reason."

"Think of how much better things were for you, than for me. My birth father didn't give a shit. Yours married your mother. I think that might have something to do with why you're emotionally healthier than I am. Marriage is the right thing to do."

"But we don't know each other as well as we should."

"We have a lifetime to learn about each other. I'm in love with you. Are you in love with me?"

"Absolutely."

"Then we should be married. And with a baby coming, we should marry as soon as possible."

"It feels too much like a shotgun wedding. I know I shouldn't care what people say, but I do."

"We don't need to tell people you're pregnant. You said you want the baby to be our little secret."

"There's nothing I want more than to be your wife, and have a family with you. But getting married so quickly…people will think you married me only because of the baby."

"Who cares? This is you and me. We live by our own rules."

"Our rules...okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes. Not the most romantic proposal, Mr. Grey, but the answer is yes."

I crush her to me. I don't ever want to let her go.

 **Anastasia**

We're headed back to Seattle, just the two of us in Charlie Tango. Taylor and Sawyer are driving back to Seattle. We'll land at Escala. Ryan will meet us there and drive us to our appointment with Dr. Flynn. The complex logistics of Christian's life astonish me.

"What are you thinking?"

"Just wondering what marriage will be like. Your life is so complicated. I wonder how I'll fit in."

"Let's get something straight. You are my life. You are the center of my universe. My life revolves around you, has to fit around you, not the other way around."

"That's an awful lot of pressure. We should both make compromises. What can I do to make your life easier?"

"Oh, baby, you make my life better just by sharing my oxygen."

"C'mon. There has to be something."

"There is one thing."

"Something I can give you?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

"Remember what you said in Montana?" Christian looks—shy? What's up with that?

"We both said lots of things. I don't recall anything specific."

"You said you'd be willing to explore certain things with a boyfriend or husband."

"Oh. Yes. I did say that." He wants the activities in the contract.

"So?"

"We need to look at the contract again. There were a few things that sounded like fun, but I need to refresh my memory. And there were some things I'm not familiar with, so I need to become educated."

"But you're open to discussion?"

"Of course."

Christian lets out a sigh of relief and smiles sweetly. This means a great deal to him.

"I feel a bit insecure. What if I can't do those things? What if we never do more than what we do now?"

"I'm perfectly satisfied with what we have, but you have limited sexual experience, and I want you to feel fulfilled. Maybe I have my own insecurities."

"Really?"

"Really. Since I'm the only man you've been with, I don't want you feeling that you're stuck, missing out on sexual experiences. I don't want to lose you. You should have every opportunity to try new things. Hell, if you want to become a Domme, I'll be your submissive."

"I have no desire to become a Domme, but maybe we can tie each other up once in a while."

Christian's eyes light up, and his face splits into a dazzling smile.

"That rings my bell, baby."

We spend the rest of the trip enjoying the sights. Christian points out landmarks and gives me a geography lesson. After he expertly lands Charlie Tango atop the Escala building, I let him know what I've been wanting.

"I'd like to see your apartment. See how you live."

"And I want to show you, but Flynn is expecting us."

Christian seems conflicted about something, but I can't imagine what it could be. I want to ask, but I'm afraid I won't like the answer.

XXXXXXX

Dr. Flynn's office is decidedly masculine.

I spy framed Rorschach inkblots on one wall. Flynn has a sense of humor.

The upholstery is hunter green leather, and the walls are covered in warm beige grasscloth. Christian pulls me next to him on the sofa. Dr. Flynn sits across from us in a club chair.

"It's good to see you again, Ana."

"You too, Dr. Flynn."

"Please call me John. What did you two wish to discuss?"

"I want Anastasia to have an opportunity to ask about my issues. And we've had changes in our relationship, so I guess we should talk about some of that."

"Changes? Elaborate."

"Exciting changes. Anastasia is pregnant. We're getting married."

Flynn is stunned. He looks back and forth between us, unsure what to say. His gaze finally settles on Christian.

"Was this pregnancy planned?"

"If you're asking whether I deliberately impregnated Anastasia, the answer is no."

What a strange exchange between these two—what the hell is going on?

"Was there a discussion about getting me pregnant?"

"John thought I subconsciously wanted you pregnant. And I admitted that perhaps I did, because I wanted you so much."

Whoa. I know our pregnancy was as much my doing as Christian's. We were equally careless. Maybe subconsciously we both wanted the pregnancy.

"I never thought I'd want a wife and children, John, but I've changed. I want all the things Elena said I could never have. And now Anastasia can touch me. I don't feel pain."

"That's extraordinary. Show me."

Christian turns and presses my hands to his chest. I move my hands up, down, and across his chest.

"Show John how you can touch my back."

I run my hands over Christian's strong back, relishing the ripples beneath his shirt.

John laughs in delight.

"When's the wedding?"

We haven't discussed details, but my man seems to have a plan.

"Very soon. Anastasia and I haven't decided, but soon. You're the first person we've told, so if you can keep it under your hat, we'd appreciate it. You know, in case you run into my folks."

"Of course. Please allow me to be the first to offer congratulations. A wedding and a baby. You don't waste any time, Christian."

"I know what I want." Christian pulls my hand to his lips, and kisses my knuckles.

"Ana, what are your concerns?" John looks at me expectantly.

"Is there anything you want to ask John about my diagnosis?" Christian turns from me to John. "Anastasia has asked about mood swings."

"Christian may possess some of the traits you find on lists in internet searches, but like most patients, he doesn't fit neatly into one category. He experienced severe trauma as a toddler, and this triggered PTSD. It might surprise you to know PTSD is easier to treat in children than adults. In Christian's situation, after his mother's death, he went into a foster home, while he awaited adoption by Carrick and Grace. While he—"

"What!? A foster home? I don't remember that."

Christian is stunned, upset by this news. He squeezes my hand. I do my best to soothe him, turning his hand over and over in my mine.

"It's in your history. It's right here." John scrolls through his laptop. "Yes, for two months you lived with the Collier family in Detroit. You were put on a long waiting list for state-funded psychiatric services. Carrick tried to intervene and pay for private services, but he was turned away. The delay in treatment didn't help your situation. If you had been treated immediately, perhaps your PTSD wouldn't have been as debilitating."

"I didn't know any of this." Christian shakes his head, trying to process the news.

"You were non-verbal. Seeing a speech pathologist might have helped, but that never happened. You and the Greys could have been taught sign language and other cues to help you communicate. And the haphephobia treatment you received at ages six and ten was inappropriate for a child with PTSD."

"Mistakes were made."

"Yes, Ana. A series of mistakes. In my opinion, if the haphephobia had been properly treated, there would never have been an Elena Lincoln, and probably no BDSM, no submissives. It's not particularly useful to talk about it now, but yes, mistakes were made."

"Shit." Christian balls his fists in anger. "All those wasted years. I hate thinking of what-ifs."

"I apologize, Christian. Perhaps I shouldn't have shared that with you. I didn't say it to provoke regret. You are progressing by leaps and bounds. You are moving past your traumas."

"Christian told me he suffers from chronic depression. Will that ever go away?"

"Dysthymia. It could be the by-product of his trauma, or it may be innate, part of his brain's chemistry. We don't know all we should about depression. Dysthymia has a ten percent per year spontaneous recovery rate. Christian has had it since early childhood, so the odds are stacked against him. He manages it better than most, by eating well and exercising daily. Dysthymia is the primary cause of his moodiness and irritability."

"Is it okay if I talk about you?" I don't want to disrespect Christian.

"Why not?" My handsome man shrugs. "That's why we're here."

"Christian has been less irritable lately. He's actually on a bit of a high. That's why I half-jokingly asked about a mood disorder."

"He's discovered touch. His loneliness has been assuaged. Yes, he's on a high. Christian is in love."

"John, I've also been getting more sleep and better quality sleep. I think sleep has helped lessen my irritability."

"That's great. How are the night terrors?"

"Not completely gone, but much better."

"Christian, perhaps you should tell John about your concern over your name."

"Fine. I'm not sure Christian is my birth name. My birth mother called me Maggot."

"How long have you carried this memory? How does that make you feel?"

"How do you think? Who wants to be named Maggot? I don't remember her ever calling me Christian. I've carried the memory forever."

"Have you asked Grace and Carrick about it?"

"No. I'm afraid of the answer. I've never really been sure of who I am."

"What's on your birth certificate?" I'm probably asking a silly question.

"Upon adoption, an amended birth certificate is issued, with the child's new name and new parents. The rest of the information stays the same. Mine says Christian Trevelyan-Grey. I don't like getting into deep, personal shit with Dad, but I'll ask him to tell me everything he knows."

"Do you have any other concerns, Ana?"

"No, I'm good for now."

"Well, I have a concern." Christian sounds irritated, put out. But about what?

"Please share with Ana. It's important to clear the air quickly. Don't allow problems to fester."

"You said Katherine is the only person with whom you can be yourself. That fucking hurt."

As soon as that came out of my mouth, I knew it would come back and bite me.

"I'm sorry, Christian. I do feel like myself around you."

"Then why did you say it? I'm more myself with you than with anyone. With you I feel like a regular guy, a normal person. I want you to feel that way with me. What is it about Katherine?"

I realize we've never discussed my friendship with Kate. It's an important piece of my history, and I've never shared it.

"When Kate and I met, she was fractured, in pieces, desperately fighting to pull herself together. I was a blob of goo. A spineless, gutless people pleaser, afraid of my own shadow. Both of us were messes, and found ourselves thrown together as roommates. I'm sure John has already heard the story of our friendship."

 **Christian**

John nods at Anastasia and gives her a reassuring smile. I suppose Katherine has already shared some of this with him.

"We were opposites in temperament. Kate was outgoing, expressive, and domineering. The girls in the dorm, me included, were quite intimidated. A couple of days after move-in, Kate went out drinking. The two guys who brought her back to the dorm told me she downed countless shots of tequila in quick succession. She drank until she passed out. I probably should have called 911, but something told me I should take care of her by myself. I wanted to keep her out of trouble.

"It was nearly 36 hours later when she fully gained consciousness. In the meantime, she had thrown her guts up, and I had dragged her under the shower a couple of times. When she finally came around, I asked if she had tried to kill herself, and when she didn't answer, I knew she had deep problems. She thanked me for being her caretaker, and began slowly opening up to me.

"Kate was still grieving for the stillborn child she delivered when she was sixteen. She had been seduced at fifteen by a man who told her he was nineteen, but was actually twenty-five. He involved her in his heroin trafficking network, and she was eventually arrested. Your dad's firm handled her defense. When I met her, Bug was still carrying tremendous guilt. I'm sure you can empathize with Kate's emotional conflict, being the victim of an abuser."

I guess it's my turn to open up.

"I haven't been particularly nice to Katherine. I've been jealous of your close friendship. She has so much influence over you. But I do understand being seduced at the age of fifteen. When I did background checks on the two of you, I discovered her sealed juvenile record. I didn't know details."

"She never served time. Kate worked a deal by testifying against the man and his accomplices."

"Do you know his name? Where is he now?"

"He told her his name was Terrence Heinz, but his true identity is Thomas Hyde. Last Kate heard, he's doing time in a federal penitentiary in California."

I"ll get Welch and Barney on it as soon as possible. I need to know more about this piece of shit, Thomas Hyde.

"What does this have to do with you not being yourself with me? Can you explain it?"

"As Bug got stronger and more confident, I got stronger, too. She taught me how to be assertive, how to feel okay about myself. My mother had done a real number on me, but you can't live with Kate Kavanagh for four years, and not be changed."

"I should thank her."

"If you do, please make sure to have smelling salts. She'll probably faint."

"I still don't understand why you can't be yourself around me."

She's afraid to tell me. Probably worried about hurting my feelings.

"I am myself around you. You, Dad, and Kate are my top three. You are the people closest to me. I have a close bond with Dad, but I keep things from him. If I'm feeling down, I protect him from my unhappiness. He endured enough grief while married to my mother, so I don't ever want him walking the floors at night worrying about me.

"Bug is the first person in my life to truly understand me. She knows the right things to say and how to pull me out of a funk. If I had a problem that overwhelmed me, or God forbid, a tragedy, I'd turn to Kate. She has strength to spare."

"And I don't? Do you think I'm weak?"

"Not weak. Never weak. But right now, you're going through so many changes of your own, fighting so many battles. Night terrors, Elena, Leila, a business to run, our pregnancy. I don't want to be a needy girlfriend. That's what I meant when I said I can be myself with Kate."

"Is this because of my meltdown?"

"Partly."

"What happened, Ana?" Flynn doesn't know about Christian's outburst.

"I went to Christian's office to tell him about our pregnancy, but we miscommunicated. He thought I was there to break up with him. He got upset and threw furniture around the room."

"I see. And this gave you pause about Christian's emotional fitness?"

"Well, of course it did."

"Baby, I'm sorry for that. I love you, and I want to be strong for you. It would make me feel good to return your love and support. Give me a chance to reciprocate."

"When you put it that way, now I feel bad. My intention has been to protect you, the way I protect my dad."

"Ana, you and Christian are equals. You're his lover, his partner. You aren't his daughter or his mom. Don't coddle him emotionally."

Sometimes I do allow, even encourage, Anastasia to mother me. And sometimes I treat her like a chld. Maybe I shouldn't, but I do.

I can be her rock.

"I can take care of you. Show me. Teach me what to do."

"I'm not sure it's the kind of thing I can teach."

"Ana, since the moment you met, you've been teaching Christian, and he's been teaching you. Tell him when you hurt, and tell him what you need. Not even soul mates can read each other's minds. Just tell him what you need. Does he share his needs?"

"As far as I can tell, yes. He expresses his needs. It's painful to think I might not be as forthcoming as I should."

"Baby, what stresses have you been struggling with?"

"Mainly things to do with you. I worry about you. Mrs. Robinson. Leila and the other subs."

That's what I was afraid of. I'm the primary cause of concern in her life. Shit. I don't want to be a burden.

"Sit down and share specifics with each other. It's important to talk, talk, talk, and then talk some more. Turn off your phones and talk."

"We can do this, baby. I want this with you."

"I want it, too."

"It won't be easy, but you both appear to have sufficient commitment to make a go of it. I'm here to offer assistance, both as a psychiatrist and a friend."

"Thank you." Anastasia and I speak in unison, which provokes laughter from John.

"You're welcome. See you tonight at the gala." John's eyes move from me to Anastasia and back again. "You two will be just fine."


	23. Plans & Confessions

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 23**

 **Plans & Confessions**

 **Saturday, June 11, 2011**

 **Christian**

As we ride to my parents' home in Bellevue, I study Anastasia's small frame, trying to imagine how she'll look, ripe, full, swollen with our child. She'll be beautiful, I'm sure of that.

She pulls on my sleeve, and holds out her phone.

"Awww. Mama K sent a photo. Kate and Elliot."

It's an image of Elliot driving. Katherine embraces him from behind. I've no idea what my brother sees in Katherine, but in this photo, he looks as happy as I've ever seen him.

"I need to call Kate. Tell her we're pregnant."

"Why?" I don't understand the way some friends, like Anastasia and Katherine, need to be on top of each other all the time. Ros is my friend, and I'm proud to say we're not like that.

"We're sisters. She needs to hear about our baby from me. Is there a special person you'd like to tell?"

"I'm ready to call Seattle Nooz, but I know that's not what you want. Call Katherine. And no, I don't have anyone special to tell."

"Not Elliot or Mia?"

I have an idea.

"Could we Skype—tell El and Katherine together?" He'd appreciate being included, and he's a blabbermouth. He'll leak the baby news. As insurance, I'll also make certain Mia knows.

"Of course. As long as I can speak to Bug first. Shall I text her and set up a Skype date?"

"Sure. As soon as they can manage it. I have meetings lined up at my folks' house."

"Meetings? What kind? Or maybe that's none of my business."

"No secrets, baby. Taylor and I are meeting with Welch and Barney." I'm also meeting with Cleve about pre-nup paperwork, but I'll speak to Anastasia tomorrow about that.

"That's your security team. Is there a threat?"

"Same old stuff. Just updates. Let's talk weddings. When you were growing up, did you ever think about your wedding? Mia used to talk about that shit all the time."

"No, but I want Daddy to walk me down the aisle. What did you have in mind?"

"Let's elope to Montana."

"I suppose Daddy walking me down the aisle isn't in your plan."

Her frown is one-sided. It's cute.

"There's no waiting in Montana. I don't want you getting away." I pull her as close as seat belts will allow.

"Where would I be going? I adore you."

"You know what I mean. I want to nail this down. Seal the deal."

"I'm a deal?"

"The deal of a lifetime." I kiss her with urgency.

"No, we can't get all frisky right now. There's too much to discuss."

"We can talk and play at the same time." I run my nose along hers.

"Back to this wedding. Details, please."

"We fly to Montana tomorrow, get hitched, and return Monday morning."

"Sounds Vegas-y, like a drive-thru." Ana scrunches her nose at the idea of a quickie ceremony. "Won't the courthouse be closed on a Sunday?"

"I'll make special arrangements with Judge Hawkins, a friend of Dad's. Hey, we'll go wherever you want, as long as there's no waiting."

"Montana is fine, but Daddy will be hurt."

A solution hits me. I hope Anastasia will go along with it.

"As will Mother. That's why we'll have vows and a reception here in Seattle."

Anastasia sits up. I have her attention. She likes this idea.

"Where? Your apartment?"

"The Mile High. We shared our first meal there and agreed to become friends. It's mine, so no worries about securing a venue."

"What dates are you considering?"

"This coming Saturday or the one after. I wish we could take a long honeymoon, but that's not feasible right now."

"When we're both able to get time off, we could use the Maui trip for a honeymoon."

"That resort isn't exclusive. It doesn't provide privacy."

"That's okay. I like the idea of us honeymooning like any other couple."

"If that's what you want, baby. It's only a five-day stay, and I can do that now. We can take a longer honeymoon later."

"My job. I just started and I can't ask for time off."

"About that…please consider quitting."

I brace myself for Anastasia's reaction. She can be so stubborn, so proud.

"No." With the back of her hand, she gives her hair a dismissive flip.

"Ask for time off. The early hours leave you exhausted. You really aren't a morning person. With wedding plans, honeymoon, house hunting…please take some time off."

Anastasia lets out a little huff of resignation. I pull her knuckles to my mouth, and kiss them softly.

"Okay. I'll call Papa K and see about getting five days off for a honeymoon. I'm afraid to ask for more."

"You don't need to work. I'd like you home, waiting for me every evening."

"You were born in the wrong era."

"You won't stay home when we have children?"

"I haven't considered that."

"It occurred to me recently, in one of Flynn's sessions…Elena wouldn't have had the opportunity to abuse me, if I'd had an adult at home keeping closer watch. If Mother and Dad hadn't worked such ridiculous hours, Elliot wouldn't have been able to screw around all the time. Elena wouldn't have been able to get to me after school."

"Are you worried about our children being abused?"

"Yes." It's a deep-seated fear.

"Don't." Her voice is soft, soothing.

"I'll try." We lean into each other, and fall into a warm, drowsy relaxation.

XXXXXXX

"Sir? Sir? Do you want me to let you off at the front, or should I drive around back?"

Anastasia and I fell asleep.

"Front." My voice is croaky.

"Baby, wake up." I shake her gently. "We're almost there."

Anastasia gapes in wonder, as we pull up to my parents' house.

"It's the most gorgeous house I've ever seen."

"We'll find one even nicer for our family. Come."

Gretchen greets us at the door. She seems confused by Anastasia's presence. I've never brought a woman here, so I suppose that's the reason. I make introductions and lead Anastasia to the backyard. We find my parents beneath the shade of a big leaf maple, conferring with the event planner.

I get an idea, and pull my mother aside.

"Could you introduce me to your planner? I have a huge acquisition in the works, and I'd like a party for the announcement."

"Party?" Mother is shocked. "You don't have parties. This must be one heck of a deal."

"The acquisition of a lifetime."

Mother brings over a man in his thirties with sandy hair, and leaves us to discuss business. He's wearing a suit on this warm summer day.

"Mr. Grey, it's a pleasure. I'm Billy Bragg, event planner and Franco's husband. He speaks so highly of you."

"I wasn't aware Franco was married." Is that something I'm supposed to know? Other than Ros, I've never spoken to employees about their personal lives. "Good to meet you. My girlfriend, Anastasia Steele."

"Call me Ana. It's nice to meet you."

"Ana, Mr. Grey, how may I help you?"

"I believe the NDA you signed for my parents includes all family members. Am I correct?"

"Yes. My lips are sealed."

"Anastasia and I are planning a surprise wedding. A complete surprise, even for our families."

"Fantastic!" He claps his hands. "I love it!"

"How quickly can we get this done?"

"Six months."

"You have six days."

Bragg crosses his arms in a defensive posture.

"You wanted a surprise, not a miracle."

"Six days. At Mile High. I own it, so it's available."

"That makes things easier. But what about dress fittings, booking musicians, sourcing flowers? There's so much involved in a wedding."

"Can you do it, or not?"

"I can do it." Of course, he can.

"Draw up a contract. We'll discuss details before the ball tonight. Will you be ready?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you for the opportunity."

As Billy walks away, Anastasia takes my hand. I hope we'll always be the couple who holds hands.

"Six days? I need to make sure my dress still fits, and we need to decide on attendants. Kate will be maid of honor."

"How about Saturday, the 25th?"

"Much better." Anastasia breaks into a relieved, contented smile.

"I'll ask Elliot to be best man."

"And Mia? We'll want her as bridesmaid, but then it's unbalanced. Is there anyone else you'd ask to stand up with you? How about Ros?"

"I can ask her, but will that look weird?"

"No, it's the way things are done now. Tell you what, I'll ask Kate, Ethan, and José to stand with me, and you can ask Elliot, Mia, and Ros. It's fine to have attendants of different genders."

"I don't really have a big issue with Kavanagh, but the photographer?"

"José and I worked things out. Let's have a fresh start. Please." Her baby blues beseech me to accept her suggestion.

"Whatever you want." How can I object? She's agreeing to marry me, on my terms.

"Let's go inside. I need to get Bug on the phone." Anastasia takes in the view. The roses and day lilies are in the zenith of bloom. "It's so breathtaking, the lake and the Seattle skyline."

"We need to find our own place. Soon. Building can take quite a while. We should have a house, before our child comes."

We climb the gentle slope to the house, and I feel full with the promise of what will come.

 **Anastasia**

Mementos of Christian's tumultuous adolescence still occupy his room. Wrestling posters, family snapshots, a deflated football.

And then I see it, something incongruous, yet familiar. Christian's gray eyes peer at me from a photograph of a woman about my age. This must surely be his birth mother.

His mother's hair is long and similar in shade to mine. I study her features, which bear a strong resemblance to Leila. Delicate chin, high cheekbones, wide eyes, perfectly arched brows.

Leila with the fucking bourbon brown eyes. I have a queasy, unsettled feeling when I think of his "best sub." Is there something about their relationship he's not telling me? Why does she think she can come back into his life? He had a rule. No second chances. Something doesn't add up.

I shake off the questions, and call Kate.

"Hey, girlie, what's up?"

"I miss my Bug. That's what."

"Miss you too. We'll be home Friday."

"Not soon enough. I have something to tell you. Are you someplace private?"

"No. We're in a restaurant. Brunch. Let me walk outside."

"I don't want anyone to overhear. And you can't tell anyone about this."

"So serious."

"Yes."

"I'm outside now. Spill."

"Two big pieces of news. I'm pregnant, and I'm getting married tomorrow."

Silence.

Followed by silence.

"Bug? You still there?"

"Yes. I'm in shock."

"Nobody knows about this. Christian wants to tell Elliot himself, so act surprised. We wanna Skype with you two. What's a good time today?"

"An hour or so? We're going back to the house in a bit. Are you happy? I can't see you, and you sound like you're at the bottom of a well."

"Yes, I'm happy. Thunderstruck. But we're in love and thrilled about the baby."

"Wow. You're sure about all of this? No doubts?"

"A couple of small doubts, but overall, yes, I'm sure."

"Small doubts? That doesn't sound good. What's going on?"

"I'm afraid Christian still cares for someone from his past."

"He's completely besotted with you. You're worrying needlessly."

"I hope you're right."

"I feel a twinge of envy over your baby, but I'll work through it. I can't wait to be Auntie Kate. I'll spoil your child rotten, unless Mama, Mia, and Grace get there first…damn, girl, your kid doesn't stand a chance."

We share a laugh.

"Oh, Bug. I need you here."

"Soon. I love you."

"Is Papa K having a good day? I need to ask for time off."

"He's always in a happy mood for you. It's his birth children who aggravate him. Is Ethan all settled in?"

"Yes."

"Here's Dad. Skype in an hour or so. Laters." I hear a smacking noise, which must be a Kate-kiss.

"Papa K?"

"Yes, darlin', what can I do for you?"

"I hate to ask, but I need time off."

"Our little workhorse needs a break? Take all the time you need. Will a month be enough?"

"I don't need that much."

"Take it. With pay. I wasn't going to tell you this until I got home, but there are changes to your job."

"Will I still be at the station?"

"Yes, but you'll work for a new production company I'm putting together. I've convinced Bandi Chopra to syndicate, and we're putting the deal together now."

"That's huge. Who knows about it?"

"You, me, Bandi, Leo Verling. He'll produce the show."

"I see."

"Take your time off, and I'll inform Leo. Don't worry about a thing."

"Thanks. Love you lots."

"You too, kiddo."

I flop onto Christian's bed, a bit overwhelmed by the changes I face.

 **Christian**

"Hope you don't mind me taking over your study for a few hours." I realize I've usurped my dad's space, and never asked permission.

"Of course not. What are you working on?"

I lean down to power up Dad's Mac.

"Just catching up on a few things. Elena for one."

"That'll ruin a Saturday afternoon."

"At least I have Anastasia nearby."

"She's solid, son. Definitely a keeper." He turns toward the open doorway.

This is as good a time as any. I have questions and Dad might have answers.

"Don't go. I need to ask about some things."

"Sure, son. Whatever I can do to help."

I reach behind Dad and push the door closed.

"Did you ever cheat on Mom?"

"Where's this coming from?"

"The talk about Lorna Stovall. And I've tried convincing Anastasia of my devotion to her. She seems to think I'll tire of her, but I don't believe that's possible."

"I see. I never cheated on your mother, but around the time she accused me of having a thing with the Stovall woman, there was a girl. A young law student who clerked for me. Grace and I were arguing constantly."

"About me?"

"Yes, but there were other strains as well. Grace and I maintained arduous schedules. We didn't make the time to reconnect, and we fell away from each other."

"What happened with the clerk?"

"She was beautiful. Long mahogany hair, green eyes. She hung on my every word. According to her, I was funny, brilliant, and a better teacher than any of her law professors. One afternoon she massaged my shoulders, and after that, I couldn't get her out of my head."

Corinne. She told me she'd clerked for Dad. I hope Dad never touched her.

The idea of having Dad's sloppy seconds is revolting. Throw in him cheating on Mother, and I'm completely disgusted.

"Corinne Davis. She's a partner at Peebles and Harrison. Married Judge Harmon last year."

"You know her?" Dad is agape.

"She was my first contracted submissive, selected and trained by Elena, just like all the others. Corinne mentioned working for you. I bet Elena suggested her as your clerk. Probably gave you a sob story about a promising young woman who needed work experience."

Dad closes his eyes and nods his head.

"Thank God, I didn't touch that girl. Elena played me right along with everyone else. She deliberately placed temptation on my doorstep."

"We were all hoodwinked. I hope you haven't given Mother too hard a time over the Lorna Stovall thing. Elena wrote the book on deception."

"We're working through it."

"What made you stop yourself from taking up with Corinne?"

"Something Ronnie said." Dad's law school buddy died from a heart attack a couple of years ago. "He destroyed his first marriage by cheating. I remembered what he told me."

"Well?"

"He said it wasn't entirely sex that pulled him in. It was the way the other woman made him feel. He felt needed and desired. That newness, that exhilaration, is what drew me to Corinne. She was fresh and lovely. She made me feel like a prince, powerful and important. But I had learned from Ronnie's mistake. I knew the pleasures would be temporary and fraught with danger. Nothing was worth what I had at home."

Nothing could ever be worth risking what I have with Anastasia. Her love is everything I want or need, and certainly more than I deserve.

"Anastasia and I visited Flynn this morning. He said I spent time in a foster home, but I don't remember it."

"We were approved for adoption, but had to wait while social services searched for blood relatives. You stayed with a nice family, the Colliers. You enjoyed Mrs. Collier's cooking, and quickly put on weight. Ella left few clues to her past, and the authorities never ascertained her identity. Canadian law enforcement searched their records as well. No one fitting Ella's description was reported missing. A birth certificate was never found for you, so we don't know your birthplace."

I'm stunned.

"The birth certificate says Detroit."

"Yes. It's an assumption, of course. All the particulars on the certificate are blank, because we never had the facts about your weight, length, et cetera."

"I assumed those details were a clerical oversight. How can you be sure about my birthdate?"

"The week before Ella's death, she celebrated your birthday and she baked a chocolate cake for you. The neighbors remembered, because your mother was lucid and sober, apparently a rare event. They recalled it was June 18th. One of the neighbors gave your mother four yellow candles for the cake.

"Grace and her colleagues believed the date to be accurate, or close to accurate. The dates fit your physical development. Just after the age of four, the jaw and facial bones begin to grow, creating spaces between the primary teeth. You were small for your age, due to poor nutrition, but your proportions fit those of a four-year-old."

"What about my name?"

"Neighbors said your name was Chris, so we went with that. We considered naming you Christopher, but settled on Christian."

"I don't recall my mother addressing me by name. In my dreams, she calls me Maggot."

"With all your inner conflict, who knows why you dreamed that. The neighbors said Ella was a gentle person, and when sober, she was very attentive to your needs."

My father makes a point I haven't considered. The nickname is from my dreams. I have no other recollection of it. Could the nickname be something I've created from my self-loathing?

"I want to believe she cared for me."

"What's going on, son? Why the sudden interest in your birth mother?"

A large part of it is Anastasia and our baby, but I'm not ready to tell Dad.

"I've been feeling unsure about my name. That's what led to the discussion with Flynn."

"To us, you're Christian. You're a son and a brother. You're important to this family."

There's a knock at the door. I glance at my watch.

"Thanks. Do you want to sit in with security?" After such a deep discussion, it feels wrong to expect Dad to leave.

"I'd like that." Dad takes a seat, while I open the door to Taylor and Welch.

"Where's Barney?" I hate waiting for people.

We've never met in Dad's study before. Taylor and Welch look around, uncertain where to sit. There's a round table, with seating for six, and Dad points to it.

"I'm here," Barney's shirt tail has come untucked from one side of his pants. He places his messenger bag on the table. We sit, all of us leaning in toward the middle of the table.

"What've you got for me?"

"First up is Dr. Greene. No affiliations with the BDSM community, but she's treated three of your past, um, associates. Leila Williams, Susannah Bostwick, Dawn York."

"Taylor, please contact Miss Bostwick and Miss York. Perhaps they need a warning about NDA violations. See if you can find out which one talked."

Clean up on aisle one. Taylor has scrubbed up far too many of my messes. Jesus, I'd like to reach a point in my life when subs become a dim memory.

"Of course."

"Any sightings of Miss Williams?"

She always was sneaky, trying to get into my bedroom. It's because of her, there are now two locks on that door. Taylor caught her outside my study a couple of times, eavesdropping on my phone conversations. Now she's upped her game, and we haven't a clue where to search for her.

"No, sir." Taylor and Welch answer in unison.

I look to Welch.

"Thomas Hyde?"

"He'll be in a California federal pen for at least another decade. He's from Detroit, but has family around here. The threat level to Miss Kavanagh is low."

"That's a relief. But what of Mrs. Lincoln? I read your report this morning. She's sneaking out of her house, right beneath your noses. What the fuck!"

Welch clicks his pen repeatedly. I hope he's nervous, worried about keeping his job.

"We haven't figured it out yet, but we will. It's like she has a tunnel under her house. We don't see her leave, but then a cab will drop her off. She knows she's being watched, and she's having a lot of fun at our expense."

"Goddammit! I don't want the bitch out getting her ya-yas. I want her strung up, blowing in the breeze."

"It's coming, boss." Welch reassures me. "Isaac-what's-his-name, her submissive…he's cut a deal, testifying against her. Did you know he just passed the CPA exam? He cooked the books for her. The Feds slammed Lincoln with tax evasion, three counts each of 401K tampering, conspiracy, wire fraud, and mail fraud. The audit isn't complete, still needs a couple of weeks, but she'll face plenty of charges there as well."

"What about all those photographs? When will that report be complete?"

"Happy birthday, sir." Barney tosses a baggie on the table and it lands in front of me. Inside are three flash drives, all marked 32GB.

"What's this?"

Barney lowers his voice.

"Does the carpet match the ginger drapes? With a tiny mole to the left of an impressive uncircumcised johnson?"

I nod.

Jesus. These must be Elena's photos.

"I think Mrs. Rogers wants to meet you."

"Who?"

"The retired FBI agent who searched the photos. She dubbed them 'the most splendid images ever seen.' You left quite an impression, sir."

Everyone laughs at Barney. The idea of an old lady studying my dick pics is funny, I suppose.

"Any minors?"

"No. Thousands of pictures, but the images can be whittled down to a handful of subjects. You, Isaac, and a couple of others. All young and well-endowed."

I must look surprised, because Welch nods his head. "The lack of minors shocked us, too. Over half the images were you. Clearly you were her favorite."

I grunt in disgust, and Dad asks the important question.

"Is this all of them?"

"We believe so, Mr. Grey. We'd like to coordinate with your security for the Gala. Where are they?" Welch stands to leave. Taylor and Barney follow suit.

"They're scheduled to arrive at five." Dad rises and pushes in his chair. "You'll have to catch them then."

"If there's nothing more, boss, we'll return at five."

I nod my agreement to Welch, and watch the trio file out of the study.

"Life will find its equilibrium. You'll see." Dad reaches up to ruffle my hair, the way he did when I was a kid.

"I hope you're right. I need to find Anastasia."

 **Anastasia**

"You're both so golden and glowy." I've never seen Kate look happier, or more beautiful. It's the Elliot-effect.

"It's the best vacation I've ever had," Elliot says, eyeing Kate. "Where's my bro? You said it was his idea to Skype."

"He's having some kind of meeting downstairs. This lets me have you all to myself. I wish you could be here for the gala. Will it be stuffy?"

"A bit. Throw back a few, and things will be better." I definitely won't be taking Elliot's advice.

"You know I'm not much of a drinker."

"Chrissy will take good care of you. I bet he won't let you out of his sight."

"Damn right about that." It's Christian. My love is here.

"Bro? Sit down so we can see you."

Christian joins me on his bed, and wraps his arms around me.

"You two look very loved up. It's nice to see. What did you want to talk about?" Kate is a terrific actress. Let's see if she's mastered the expression of surprise.

Christian looks at me expectantly. He's anxious to tell our news.

"Go ahead," I tell him.

"This is top secret." Kate and El nod their heads in understanding. "Anastasia and I are getting married tomorrow."

"Whoa, bro, why the rush? You got a bun in the oven?"

"Yes, Baby Grey is due in February."

"Oh my God. I'll be Auntie Kate and you'll be Uncle El. This is the best news ever." Yep, Bug has hit exactly the right notes of excitement and surprise.

"You two okay?" Elliot expresses his concern.

"We're better than okay, aren't we, baby?" Christian kisses my nose.

"We're thrilled about becoming parents. This might not be ideal timing, but we love each other deeply. Christian and I are meant to be together."

"I get it. It's the way I feel about Kate." Elliot looks at Kate with reverence.

"We'll be married by a judge tomorrow, but we're having another ceremony on the 25th." Christian pauses and looks at me for approval. I nod for him to continue. "We'd like you to stand up for us, as best man and maid of honor."

Kate squeals and Elliot breaks into an enormous smile.

"Yes!" The two answer in unison.

"What colors have you chosen?" Leave it to Kate to get to the really important matters.

"None. If you were here, everything could be decided in a matter of minutes. Get your butt home, Bug."

With a "soon" from Kate and "laters" from Elliot, the call ends.

"That went well." Christian beams, and runs his hands from my hips to my ribs. He's got that glint in his eye, and I know we'll soon be naked.

"Yes. It made me excited for our wedding."

Christian frowns in disappointment.

"You weren't excited before?"

"I haven't had time to get enthusiastic. Everything moves so fast with you. I'm caught up in your whirling dervish."

"You're making drastic changes for me. Is everything okay?" My man is worried.

"Yes, my darling, I adore you."

"And I adore you, Miss Steele. Something's bothering you."

I should tell him.

"Leila."

"What of her?" He asked me to tell him, and now he's irritated. "Damn it, I can't get away from her."

"She was your favorite."

"Why are we talking about her?"

"You can't deny she was your favorite submissive."

"She was my favorite. Why are you pursuing this?" Gray eyes stare me down.

"She was the best, with bourbon brown eyes."

"What the hell is this about?"

His voice is now raised. You can't intimidate me, Christian Grey. I'm not backing down.

"Leila thinks she can step back into your life. You said the subs understood once things were over, there was no return trip. Why does Leila believe she'll get a do-over? You must've expressed feelings for her."

Christian props himself up on an elbow, backing away from me. His body speaks volumes.

"Never."

"You said something to let her think she had a chance with you."

He lets out a soft sigh of resignation.

"You won't let this go, will you?" Christian is exasperated with me, but I need to understand what he's thinking.

"No. I won't marry a man who carries a torch for another woman."

Color drains from his face.

"What are you saying?"

"I need honest answers about your relationship with Leila. Start talking. Tell me everything."

Christian pushes the pillows up against the headboard, and sits up, pulling my body against his.

"Leila delivered a reliable, quality service."

"What does that mean...reliable service?"

"You really want to know?'

"That's why I'm asking."

"When Leila gave blow jobs, they were consistent from start to finish. She was highly skilled and energetic. The other subs would sometimes be tired or disengaged, and their fellatio skills reflected that."

I'm imagining Leila and Christian, and the thoughts are sickening and infuriating.

"Every time I suck you off now, I'll compare myself to Leila."

"In any comparison, you'll always win. With her, it was very practiced, very mechanical. It's different with you. You love me with your mouth. Your reverence and devotion are evident in the way you touch me, look at me. There's no comparison between the two of you."

He didn't allow the others to look at him or use their hands. If he had, I'm certain he would've discovered some reverence and devotion.

"I hate Leila and I hate all the other women. And I hate myself for hating them. None of that makes sense, but it's how I feel." My eyes fill with tears of frustration. Christian wipes them away with his thumbs, and kisses my eyelids.

"Baby, I wish I'd never fucked Elena or any of those subs. My heart was always waiting for you, holding out for you." He pulls me into his lap, and rocks me like an infant. "You are my one and only love."

"I do know you love me, but I feel threatened by Leila and what the two of you had."

"It's simple really. She took all the punishment I meted out, and came back for more. She was flirtatious, beguiling, and she'd deliberately break the rules to receive more punishment."

"She doesn't sound very submissive."

"In what way?"

"Don't submissives do all they can to please their Dom?"

"Yes."

"Then why was Leila constantly challenging you and seeking punishment?"

"She knew I liked the rough shit. To please me, she gave me the opportunity to dole it out."

"Since Montana I've done a fair amount of reading on the subject. From what I've learned, a submissive complies to please his or her partner, and takes punishment when it's deserved. But a submissive doesn't disrespect her Dom for the purpose of actively seeking punishment. If Leila actively sought punishment, she wasn't a sub, but something else entirely."

Christian looks away, and stares off deep in thought for a few moments. His eyes lock with mine.

"A masochist?"

I nod.

 **Christian**

"Are you okay? Christian. Talk to me." My girl runs her soft fingers up and down my arm.

I realize Anastasia is correct. The other subs tolerated the punishments, but they didn't deliberately defy me in order to be punished. They occasionally attempted topping from the bottom, but not the same way Leila did. The harsher the punishment, the harder Leila would come.

"I guess that makes me a sadist."

"No way. My pain is anathema to you. Was your dynamic with Leila different from the other subs?"

"Yes. I permitted Leila certain leeway. I offered her more."

"More? How?"

"I let her put music on my iPod. After calling her into my study for a blow job, I allowed her to stay, rather than sending her back to her room. She'd read magazines or play games on her tablet while I worked. Occasionally, she'd tell me about her family or her job. I conversed with her more than the others. I didn't think about her during the week. You're the only woman who has captivated my off-hours thoughts. But on Fridays, I would ride home with more anticipation for Leila, than I had for other subs."

"What stopped you from dating her, from making her your girlfriend?"

"Elena's rules were deeply ingrained. And deep down, despite my attraction to her, I knew she wouldn't be good for me."

"Not good for you—how did you know that?"

"I didn't trust her. I sensed her lack of stability. I was more attracted to her than the other subs, but I trusted her far less than the rest. Because of her disobedience, I felt a loss of control. I feel a loss of control with you, but it's different, because you respect me and wouldn't deliberately hurt me. I never felt Leila respected me."

"Do you wish I had brown eyes?"

Where the hell did that come from? Anastasia is perfection, made just for me.

"Why would you ask me that?"

"They're your favorite. Bourbon brown."

I hold Anastasia tight, and run fingers through her hair. She's looking for reassurance. All of this is so new to me. I hope I'm doing this right.

"Each woman had a different shade of eye color. Leila's were bourbon. One had cocoa and another had caramel. Still another had sea green. Until I met you, I had no preference. Your powder blues are the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, and I want to look into them for the rest of my life."

"Bourbon brown sounds romantic."

"The only romance I've ever wanted is with you. I love you, and only you."

She winds a lock of my hair around one finger and gently tugs, relaxing against me.

"What precipitated the end of the contract?"

"Leila said she loved me. She wanted more. Parting was a mutual decision. From the beginning I mismanaged the situation, and I feel guilt over that."

"Why should you feel guilty?"

"I made an enormous mistake. I allowed new subs to call previous subs about my preferences. Conferring with the other subs allowed Leila to know the nature of those past relationships. She was getting a bit 'more' from me, and she knew that. Though I never told her so, she came to believe I cared more for her than the others. It gave her hope, made her think she'd one day have a romantic relationship with me. I felt, still feel, guilty about that. I led her on."

"Did you make promises? Certain assurances?"

"No, never."

I kiss the top of Anastasia's head and stroke her back.

"How did it work, new subs calling previous ones?"

"It only happened a few times, but new subs would sometimes have lots of questions about my routines and expectations. It's strange to recollect now, because I enjoy talking to you so much, but I disliked chatter with the subs, and to avoid conversation, I handed off phone numbers of previous subs. Taylor called and got permission first, of course, but as far as I know, all the prior subs were cooperative. Leila called a couple of the women, and as a result, she believed she understood me."

"She did understand you. She became your favorite." Anastasia climbs over me and out of bed. She pulls something off my cork board. "Is this your birth mother? Leila looks a lot like her."

As much as I dread this discussion of complications from my past, until I share enough to satisfy her curiosity, Anastasia won't move forward.

"I suppose there is a physical resemblance between the two. But there's something else, as well. When Leila and I severed contact, she married soon after, and then a few months later took a lover. Her capricious, unstable behavior is reminiscent of my mother, and makes me wonder if I contributed to her now broken state."

"How can you feel responsible for what your mother was and what Leila is? They made their own choices." Anastasia places the photo on the nightstand, and snuggles into my side.

"You point out the obvious, Miss Steele. But in my head things take on a new life." I try to laugh, but it comes out a hollow thud.

"I wish I could take away your anguish. Leila sounds very clever, manipulative. You aren't to blame for her misery."

Anastasia reassures me, assuages my guilt.

"You always make me feel better, baby. Put your hands all over me. Touch me the way no one else can."

I cover her sweet mouth with mine, and we love our worries away.

 **Anastasia**

My gown is silver satin, as are my strappy shoes. My hair is styled in loose, soft waves.

"Very Rita Hayworth," Franco declared. "You're stunning, my dear."

Mia and I helped each other get ready in her room, and when I emerged, Christian was waiting. He pulled me close, his approval and appreciation obvious.

"You're breathtaking. I can't keep my hands off you."

I've never seen him in a tux before, and he's mouth-watering.

He holds out a small box. Tiffany blue.

"I'm gilding the lily, I know, but I thought you might like some jewelry to go with the gown."

He opens the box to show diamond drop earrings. Simple, classic, elegant.

"Thank you. They're exactly what I would have chosen for myself." He puts them in for me, pronounces them "perfect," and rewards me with a sweet kiss.

Mia shoves a velvet bag at Christian. "Wear these masks. I've gotta go. My date's waiting downstairs."

"That Sean fucker?" Christian asks in irritation. He's very protective of Mia, and it's one of the things which point to him becoming a wonderful parent.

"No. Ethan Kavanagh."

Christian looks confused.

I can't help but smile.

"You two got along well in Vancouver," I say, "but I had no idea you were dating."

Christian pulls on his hair.

"If Kavanagh thinks he's going to string you along—"

"We're just friends. There's nothing going on. Not yet, anyway." Mia winks at me, and dashes down the stairs.

"Honest to God, if this child is a girl, my heart won't be able to handle it. Fuckers always trying to get down and dirty." Christian bangs a fist against the wall.

"You don't want a girl?" I hope his heart isn't set on a boy, or we may be in for problems.

"I'll welcome whatever's coming to us, but if someone messes with our daughter, my response won't be a measured one."

"You'll be the best father."

Christian presses me against the wall. His hard rod pushes against my abdomen.

"Oh, baby, I wish we could go to bed and stay there."

We're interrupted by Gretchen.

"Excuse me, Mr. Grey, but Mr. Bragg is downstairs. He says you have a meeting."

"Thank you. Tell him Anastasia and I will be down momentarily."

As soon as Gretchen's out of sight, Christian uses his powerful torso to trap me against the wall. He pushes my arms above my head. His kisses are hot, wet, insistent.

"Bragg can wait. Here and now, let me fuck you. There's no one around."

"Too public. Your room."

I take Christian's hand and lead him down the hall. I lock the door behind us.

"Come in my mouth, so we don't muss our clothes."

I give the job all I've got, doing my best to supplant memories of Leila. It doesn't take long.

"Baby, you take such good care of me."

XXXXXXX

We've kept Billy Bragg waiting, but he greets us brightly. His notebook is open, pen at the ready.

Christian gets right to business.

"Our date is the 25th, so you have two weeks. Anastasia already has a gown, designed by Dana Kavanagh. It's ivory, so work the colors around that."

"What do you want, Ana?" Billy asks.

"I want everyone relaxed, having a good time. Casual elegance, nothing stuffy or too precious. Other than that, I don't know."

"I can help you with that. Favorite flowers?"

"Roses, peonies, daisies, tulips. I love flowers of all kinds."

"You seem wide open, Ana. Anything the two of you feel strongly about. Music?"

I turn to Christian.

"How about ' _Dance Me to the End of Love'_ for our first dance?"

Christian beams his approval.

"I like it. We'll go with that," he tells Billy.

"I've done weddings at Mile High, and you occupy two floors. Since the wedding is a surprise, I'd like to begin with cocktails on the lower level, and then shift to the upper level for the ceremony and reception. Do you want two dresses, Ana, so you and Mr. Grey can greet guests together? Then you can change into your wedding gown for the ceremony, and surprise everyone."

"That sounds like fun."

"How many guests?"

"We haven't made a guest list yet. What do you think, baby?"

"I'd like something small and intimate. No more than fifty guests, I think. We'll work on the list, and get it to you tomorrow evening."

"I'll line up a team of calligraphers and we can have invitations hand-delivered locally on Tuesday. We'll FedEx the out-of-towners. If these aren't wedding invitations, what are they?"

"I told my mother I'm announcing a deal, celebrating an acquisition."

"Gotcha. I'll come up with a prototype, and e-mail it tomorrow. I have enough information for a start. Here's my contract."

As Christian reads the contract, Billy and I discuss attendants, hair, makeup, and possible color palettes. I like Billy. His confidence puts me at ease.

Christian signs the contract, and adds words of caution. "NDAs for everyone. Understood?"

"Of course, Mr. Grey."

XXXXXXX

"What are you drinking?" Mia pulls my cup to her nose.

"Ginger ale."

"Blah. Here's some '55 Margaux. It's Christian's private stock, and he left some with the bartender, just for us." She shoves the stem into my hand.

"I prefer ginger ale."

"Jeez. Live a little."

"No, Mia. Anastasia can't drink that." Christian takes the drink from my hand. "Let's go have a chat."

"What's going on? I don't wanna leave Ethan for long. Lily has her meat hooks out."

"Bring Ethan along," I suggest.

Christian nods his approval.

"Anastasia and I will meet you on the dock in five."

Christian sips wine as we stroll to the dock. He gestures up, directing my attention to the moon.

"A waxing gibbous."

"Does that have significance?"

"Everything has significance, since I met you. I notice things, see details I never did before."

"I feel the same way." I wrap my arms around him, and snuggle into his warmth.

I hear the sounds of approaching giggles and footfalls.

"Chrissy, what's with the cloak and dagger stuff?"

"Anastasia and I need to tell you two something confidential."

"Cross our hearts and hope to die. Tell us," Mia implores.

"I'll start. Christian and I are having a surprise wedding on the 25th."

"Eeehh!" Mia's jumps up and down, emitting high-pitched squeals. Ethan backs away from her, trying to escape her deafening screech.

"Hush!" Christian grabs Mia's arm. "Quiet, or we won't tell you the rest."

"Are you pregnant?" Ethan asks, and I wonder how many hundreds of times I'll be asked this question.

"Yes, but that's a secret too. Bug and El know, and you two. That's it."

"Oh, my God, I'm going to be an aunt! Mom will flip."

"Mia, I know it's unorthodox, but I'd like you to stand up with me. El is best man, so will you be best girl?"

"Yes! A thousand times, yes! But I want a dress, not a tux."

I turn to Ethan. "Bug will be maid of honor, so I hope you'll be man of honor. Please say yes."

"Yes. I'm happy for you, kid." Ethan gives me a quick peck on the cheek. "And our lips are sealed, right, Mia?"

"Of course. Let's go celebrate."

Mia and Ethan bustle up the sloping lawn back to the party. Christian and I take our time, enjoying a leisurely meander back to the edge of the crowd.

"I need to meet with someone." Christian points toward a familiar face. "Luke will stay near you. Go to the silent auction table and bid on something in my name."

"Yes, sir." I give my bossy boyfriend a salute, and throw in an eye roll for some attitude. "You think you're so clever. I recognize Mr. Delancey."

"We need wedding bands. He's bringing an assortment, so we can look through them and choose. We'll return the ones we don't want. Please go spend some money."

I wander to the silent auction area. There's a couples massage. I'm not sure Christian could tolerate that, but if not, he can give it to his parents. The current bid is $400. That seems ridiculous, but I bid $500, and write Christian's name.

Passing up a weekend in Whistler and a llama trek in Idaho, I spy a bronze sculpture of Icarus. Both the subject and the execution speak to me. I check the bidding. It's up to eleven thousand. I decide on fifteen, and write Christian's name again. It's so easy and so strange to spend someone else's money.

"Hello, Anastasia."

There's an edge of command to the voice, and something vaguely carnal. He's not as tall as Christian, but he cuts a nice figure in his tux. I'm not sure of his age. A black mask covers his face and most of his head. I see a fringe of dark hair at his nape.

"I'm terrible with names. Have we met?"

"No, never had the pleasure. I'm Jay, a friend of Kate's. I'm also acquainted with Dana and Eamon. I don't see them."

"They couldn't make it tonight. I'll let them know you asked about them. What's your last name?"

"Just tell them Jay said hello. Have a lovely evening, Anastasia."

And as quickly as he appeared, he's gone.

"Luke, I need to use the ladies' room."

"Mr. Grey doesn't want you using these facilities. I'm to escort you to the house."

"Ana! Wait up!" It's Mia, and she's a bit out of breath when she reaches me. "The first dance auction is coming up. Where are you going?"

"Bathroom," I whisper.

"If you aren't back in a jiff, I'll hunt you down."

I dutifully follow Luke to the house. There's a uniformed security guard at the kitchen entrance. Gretchen, the housekeeper, rolls her eyes at me, and bats them wildly at Luke.

"Gretchen, which bathroom is closest?"

This house is enormous. It'll take me a few visits to know my way around.

"Use the powder room near the front hall."

I'm not sure where that is, but I won't give her the satisfaction of my confusion.

"Thank you."

I know the general direction, so I think I can find my way.

Luke stays with Gretchen to pass the time in the kitchen.

I drift toward the front of the house, and discover family photos I hadn't noticed earlier. A shy Christian sits between a confident Mia and a cocky Elliot. My beautiful man was a beautiful boy.

The powder room is a pretty picture, with marble floors, shimmery wallpaper, and a sparkling chandelier. The Greys are the first family I've visited who own a bidet. I've never used one, and honestly, it seems utterly useless.

I wonder if Christian has a bidet. We'll be married tomorrow, and I've never seen his home.

I hear footsteps outside the door, probably Luke checking on me.

"I'll be right out."

I apply lip gloss, but it's too thick, and I end up blotting most of it away. Makeup will never be part of my skill set.

Someone jiggles the door knob.

"Mia?"

I open the door to a perfectly coiffed blonde in black taffeta. Her age and overbearing demeanor give her away.

"You're Elena Lincoln."

"The one and only."


	24. Something Old, Something New

**For ramanreinee, because she loves Ana and Christian as much as I do.**

 **The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 24**

 **Something Old, Something New**

 **June 11, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

What the hell does Mrs. Robinson want? I need Christian. Sawyer. Someone.

My phone is in my clutch, which sits on the vanity. I reach for it, but the bag slides into the sink.

"You won't hold his attention for long." Her voice is thick, raspy.

Did she sneak into the Greys' home just to berate and insult me?

The pedo-bitch pushes forward. I move toward the hall, but she blocks me.

"I know all about you, and the vile things you did to Christian." I hope she feels my contempt.

"Did he feed you that bullshit? He loved every minute of our time, and he enjoyed all the women who came after me. I helped him find himself. He's a success, all because of me." She speaks with pride and authority.

"Why are you here? What do you want?" My hands tremble, but I do my best to hide my fear.

"You're the reason my life is in tatters. Mousy little tart. It's time you get your due." Her voice conveys a bitter mockery.

Her intent to harm is clear. I kick and punch, but she returns it in greater measure.

She's bigger, stronger, but I manage to wiggle out of the powder room. I try to scream, but only manage a grunt. My throat is closed. The beast has her hands around my neck. I bring a knee to her groin and pull up my arms, breaking her hold. I hear the rip of fabric, and so does she.

"This is Carolina Herrera," she snarls. "Christian bought this for me. I'm gonna fuck you up."

With renewed vigor, the hag shoves me to the floor, and straddles me. As her body weight presses against my abdomen, I'm consumed with thoughts of Blip. I claw at her neck and face. She reaches into a pocket, and pulls out something shiny. A knife? Through my tears, I can't make it out. I grasp at the object. Better my hands should get cut, than my torso or neck.

We wrestle, and I'm relieved to see it isn't a knife, but a small bottle of clear liquid. In the struggle, I knock it from her hand. The bottle smashes against the tile bathroom floor behind us.

"You've done it now, cunt." She spits the words at me, and drags me by the hair toward the bathroom. I cross my ankles around the legs of a hall table, and grab at the base of a large planter.

"What the fuck!" It's Mia, and not a minute too soon. "Let go of her."

Mia delivers a solid punch to the ugly troll's jaw, giving me the opportunity to get off the floor.

"You always were a stupid little kid." Elena slaps Mia across the face.

Mia, who matches the platinum amazon for size, and exceeds her in strength, smacks the pedophile's head into the wall, shoving her through the bathroom door.

"Mrs. Lincoln, you need some religion. I'm gonna baptize you."

Mia restrains Elena, holding her from behind, her left arm crooked around Mrs. Lincoln's neck, and her right hand twisting the bitch's right arm.

"Take her other arm," Mia directs. I do as I'm told, and then twist the arm in opposing directions with both my hands, delivering an old-fashioned playground Indian burn.

Mia puts a knee in Mrs. Lincoln's back and shoves her head into the toilet.

"In the name of all that is holy, consider yourself baptized. Too bad the water isn't dirty. Flush it, Ana."

I flush and Mia continues to hold Mrs. Robinson's head down. Does she intend to drown her? I should intervene, but the venomous loathing I feel for the bitch allows for no mercy. Mia yanks Mrs. Lincoln's hair, pulling her head out of the toilet.

A hair piece comes off in Mia's hand. It's freaky and unexpected. Elena's hair is so thin on top, it's almost bald.

"Bet they won't let you wear that ugly assed rug in prison. Throw it out the window, Ana. I don't wanna look at that nasty thing."

As requested, I push the window screen out part way, and toss the dripping wet hair piece into the bushes below.

Mrs. Lincoln gasps and thrashes about.

"When the police come, I'll tell them how you tried to murder Ana. This is self-defense. If I kill you, it's from a need to subdue you." Mia pushes Mrs. Lincoln's face back into the toilet, and flushes again. "One swirly isn't enough. Beg, crone. I wanna hear you beg for your life."

Mia holds Elena's head down until there's no movement. When Mia pulls her head up, Elena emits a small gasp. I'm both disappointed and relieved. Mia and I don't need jail time.

"Please." Elena is barely audible.

"That's the best you can do?" Mia administers a swift kick to Mrs. Robinson's ribs.

"Please, Mia. Please." Her plea is a ragged whisper.

Mia yanks Elena up by the hair, then places a stiletto clad foot squarely into Mrs. Lincoln's back, forcing her onto the floor. As soon as Elena hits the floor, she howls bloody murder. Mia holds her down.

"Stop whining about the heel of my shoe. You did much worse to my brother. God, I hate you so much. Having my foot in your back is a fantasy come true."

Mrs. Lincoln's screams continue, way out of proportion to whatever discomfort Mia's shoe might cause.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Stupid whore." Mia kicks the pedophile again, rolling her onto her back.

The front bodice of Mrs. Lincoln's black gown disintegrates before my eyes. Dear God. Skin drips from her nose, chin, and cheek.

What the hell is happening?

And then I realize Mrs. Robinson's plan. Not only did she intend to kill me, she wanted to torture me first.

"Mia! Careful where you stand. That's acid on the floor."

"Fuck! It's on the bottom of my platforms, and some of it touched my hem." Mia begins kicking Mrs. Lincoln with renewed fury.

"What the hell is Mrs. Lincoln doing here?" It's Sawyer, weapon drawn and at the ready.

"Careful of the puddle," I warn Sawyer. "Acid."

Thank God for Mia and Sawyer. Blip and I are safe now.

"Holy shit," Mia gasps. "It's eating through her skin. Silicone is leaking from her breasts."

I reach across the horrifying spectacle of Mrs. Lincoln, and retrieve my bag from the sink. I make the mistake of looking down, and watch a nipple disappear before my eyes. The wretch wails, clutching at raw, red flesh.

A wave of nausea hits me. That could have been me. I could have lost Blip.

"We need to call the police. Mia, maybe you should speak to the dispatcher. I don't know the address here." I hand Mia my phone, and she follows me into the hallway to make the call.

 **Christian**

"You'll save a dance for me, won't you?"

"Of course, Grandmother." I kiss her cheek.

"It's funny, but I haven't seen Grace's friend. The blonde. The one who mentored you."

Mentored? Hardly, but I'll never be able to explain to Grandmother how Elena fucked and brainwashed me.

"Why would you expect to see Mrs. Lincoln? She and Mother are no longer friends."

"Lincoln, that's her name. I was having a senior moment. She walked in with us, but I haven't seen her since."

"She's here?"

What the fuck? Where could she be?

"Yes. Lovely black taffeta gown. I didn't realize it was her at first. She has a very elaborate black mask covering her hair and most of her face. She lost her ticket, and we vouched for her, saying she was our guest."

"Shit. Stay away from her, Grandmother. She's dangerous."

I motion to Taylor.

"Mrs. Lincoln is here. Dressed in black, with a mask obscuring her hair and face. I'm going to the house to find Anastasia."

"Right behind you, sir." I take off, with Taylor on my heels. He barks into a radio.

As I enter the back door, I hear loud shrieks of pain.

Please don't let it be Anastasia.

Racing toward the noise, I find Mia on the phone. I look her up and down. She appears safe and healthy.

"Anastasia?" Please let her be safe as well.

"Upstairs in your room. Sawyer has Elena in there." Mia nods toward the powder room. "She tried to kill Ana."

"Anastasia!"

I call to her. I must see her. I take the stairs two at a time.

My beautiful Anastasia, the center of my universe, meets me at the doorway of my childhood bedroom. Her hair is in disarray, and the bodice of her silver gown is ripped. I look her over head to toe, but can't process what I'm seeing and hearing. Horrible howls of agony rise from the floor below, and I realize it's Elena.

"Did she hurt you?" I walk Anastasia to my bed and pull her onto my lap. I run my hands over her, checking to make certain she isn't injured.

"I'm okay." She's been crying. She's pale, trembling.

"You don't look okay."

"She wanted to disfigure me with acid. She wanted me dead. If Mia hadn't come along…I don't want to think about what could have happened."

"I'm so, so sorry, baby."

"Don't apologize. Don't blame yourself."

"But it's my fault."

"Stop. I mean it. We can get a restraining order now. I'm pressing charges for attempted murder, and your parents can press charges for unlawful entry."

"Goddammit! Why wasn't Sawyer outside the powder room door?"

"We need some normalcy in our lives. I should be able to pee without Sawyer around to overhear. I've just had the bejeezus scared out of me, but I don't want to overreact with security. And in Sawyer's defense, he heard the commotion, and came loaded for bear. He has Mrs. Robinson contained in the bathroom."

"What happened?"

"She was outside the bathroom door. She had a bottle of acid."

"Fuck! I've always wanted to think Elena incapable of violence, but I've been wrong so often about her. Nothing should surprise me. If anything were to happen to you-"

"Oh, Christian, she looked so horrid. That could have been me."

I pull Anastasia to me, not wanting to dwell on exactly how close Elena came to executing her plan. Nobody hurts my beautiful girl.

"You're certain she didn't hurt you? The baby?"

"We're fine." My beauty reassures me with a long, soft kiss. "I was so scared, so afraid for Blip."

"You're sure she's okay?" I put my hand on Anastasia's belly.

"She?" Humor lights Anastasia's eyes.

"I had a dream," I confess.

"That's funny, because I've also had a dream. I think we're growing a baby girl."

I pull Anastasia tight against me. She's small and warm and comforting.

Our tender moment is interrupted by screeching and moaning from downstairs. I want nothing more than to permanently silence Elena. I want to exterminate her, squash her like a cockroach.

"Stay here. Mrs. Lincoln needs to shut the fuck up." I lift Anastasia off my lap.

"No! Don't leave me—she's not worth it."

Anastasia hikes up her dress, and jumps on me, wrapping her legs around my waist. She runs her fingers through my hair, and presses her lips to mine, soothing me, reassuring me.

"Oh, baby, if anything were to happen to you, or our child, I couldn't bear it."

"Hold me," she beseeches.

She pulls me down onto the bed, and I clasp her body to mine.

 **Anastasia**

"She's a wretched sight. I wish I hadn't seen her that way." The shock of her appearance will stay with me for the rest of my life.

"Is it really that bad? Or is the caterwauling just a bid for attention?"

"She wanted to ruin me, but now she's the one who's destroyed. Her pain is real."

"I wish she would fucking die."

"I do, too. But for a woman of great vanity, this is worse than death."

"Worse than death?" Christian shakes his head in skepticism.

"Her face, chest, and back are burned beyond repair. The acid ate through her clothes and skin, to the point where silicone is leaking from her implants."

I feel a shudder go through my man. I run my hands over his chest and shoulders in an attempt to relax him.

"I hate her so goddamned much, I'd actually like to see that."

"No. If you did, you'd imagine Mia or me in that condition. You have enough nightmares."

"Maybe you're right," he concedes.

The pierce of sirens can be heard over the din of the gala.

"The police are here, and from the sound of it, an ambulance as well. Let's stay here until they get Elena out of the house." I kiss Christian's eyelids and nose. "I wonder what your parents' guests will think of all this."

"Elena always did know how to become the center of attention at any event."

It's a small joke, but Christian and I both get a fit of giggles. It feels good to let go of some of our tension.

"Oh, I do love you, my darling. Thank you for making me laugh." I find his lips, warm and soft.

Christian rolls on top of me. He's a flurry of lips and hands and pelvis, and just like that, Elena Lincoln is temporarily forgotten. He finds the bodice of my gown, which is already torn, and rips it further, baring me to the waist. I hear the sound of his zipper. This is what we do, how we connect and reconnect.

"Come for me." To accomplish that more quickly, he rolls us over, so I'm on top. "Tell me when you're about to come, so we can finish together."

I soon find our sweet spot, and he smiles his appreciation as we both enjoy the ride.

"Now," I groan.

I feel his release inside me. The sensation is precious, intimate. He cleans me up, and his touch is gentle, reverent.

"Put this on over your dress." He digs around in a drawer and produces a Seahawks sweatshirt. "I don't want anyone getting a hint of what's mine."

As he pulls it over my head, there's an insistent knock.

Taylor speaks through the door.

"Sir, the detective needs to interview Miss Steele."

"Your pants." I tuck his penis back into his boxers, and refasten his pants.

"Thanks, baby. I feel so much better now."

XXXXXXX

Detective Clarke is very thorough, interviewing Mia first, and then me.

I ask about the acid.

"Where did she get something like that? A chemical supply house?"

"More than likely we'll find a receipt for battery acid from an auto store. There are internet sites with instructions on how to produce concentrated sulfuric acid, simply by heating battery acid. It's easy to do."

"Where is she?"

"The hospital. When she's well enough, we'll take her into custody. Miss Grey told me Mrs. Lincoln had some kind of grudge match with her brother."

"Yes, it's best you ask him about that. It deals with a business they shared. Do you need anything else from me?"

"Not tonight. I'll be in touch. Thank you, Miss Steele."

Detective Clarke approaches Christian, and I return to the bedroom. I don't bother to remove makeup. I undress and climb into the bed, naked and exhausted.

 **Anastasia**

 **June 12, 2011**

I wake feeling warm. The drapes are pulled back and the room is flooded with sunlight.

I'm alone. Christian's tux and shirt are spread across the back of an overstuffed blue chair. The bathroom mirror is fogged up, the bath mat is damp, and a wet towel is balled up on the floor. He must be downstairs.

Today is our wedding day. It's a day for putting aside worries of Mrs. Lincoln, Leila, and subs.

It's the most special day of our lives.

Christian ordered a dress for me to change into on the plane, but for now I wear the jeans I arrived in yesterday.

I shower and blow dry my hair into soft waves. Where's Bug when I need her? I miss her.

I can't wait to see my love, and I feel a spring in my step as I bound downstairs. I follow voices into the kitchen, where I see Christian, Grace, Carrick, and a man I met last night. I can't remember his name.

"Baby, do you remember Cleve Anderson?"

"Mr. Anderson, hello. It's good to see you again."

"Please call me Cleve."

"Here, Ana." Grace hands me my customary cup of weak Twining's. "Gretchen will start breakfast soon, and you two can eat after your meeting."

"Meeting?"

"Yes, I'm having a meeting with Cleve and another associate. I thought you'd like to sit in." Christian looks unsure of himself. Is he nervous about our nuptials?

"Whatever you think is best." Why would he ask me to listen in on a meeting? A meeting early on a Sunday morning, and on the morning of our elopement. Strange.

The doorbell rings and Grace excuses herself. This must be the arrival of the "associate."

"Ana, Mrs. Barron is here for your meeting. Carrick's office will give you some privacy." Grace gestures in the direction of the study.

There's a strange woman in front of me, and she thinks we're having a meeting.

I turn to Christian, and see a flush creep across his cheeks. He looks down and away from me, one hand tugging at his hair.

He's embarrassed, and rightfully so.

We don't know each other as well as we should, but Christian knows I don't like surprises any more than he does. We will exchange words over this later.

None of this is Mrs. Barron's fault. I recover my good manners, and offer her the warmest smile I can muster.

"Come, let's get comfortable, and chat." I lead the way to Carrick's study.

As soon as the door is closed, verbosity overtakes me.

"What's going on? Who are you? And why are we having a meeting, Mrs. Barron?"

Shit. She's petite with light brown hair. She's in her late thirties, perhaps early forties. A sub? Why would Christian arrange a meeting—with a sub? Dear God, does he want her to instruct me regarding BDSM?

No. Christian is thoughtless at times, but I don't believe he would disrespect me by introducing me to a submissive.

"Call me Bonnie. Mr. Grey didn't speak of me? My goodness, you don't know."

"No. Tell me." What the hell happened to no secrets between Christian and me?

"Miss Steele, I'm your attorney. I'm here to represent you. Didn't Mr. Grey tell you? He wants a prenup."

I turn away to gather my thoughts. I'm stunned. Surely a prenup is something we should have discussed.

Christian's lack of communication wounds me.

I try to project good cheer. I turn to face Mrs. Barron, the attorney I never knew I needed.

"Christian selected you as my representative?" I smile, but I don't think I'm a good actress.

"Yes."

"How do you two know each other?"

"We don't. I used to work for Cleve Anderson. I was hired by Mr. Grey at Cleve's recommendation."

"Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

"It doesn't matter who pays the bill. I represent your rights and interests, not Mr. Grey's. I'm here only for you, Miss Steele."

"I see."

She holds out a folder.

"This is your copy. Shall we go over it now?"

"No. I don't want to read it. If Christian and I have children…are they provided for?"

"Yes."

"They'll have art supplies, lessons, musical instruments, sports equipment?" I'd like my children to have the things I didn't.

"Please don't worry about your children. They'll have the best of everything."

Having experienced it as a child, I'm well aware of the possibility of divorce.

Mrs. Barron tries to reassure me.

"I wish you'd review the agreement, Miss Steele. I think you'd feel better about things."

Reading the prenup won't take the bad taste from my mouth. I'm not bothered about the prenup itself. I'm upset because Christian didn't discuss it with me first.

"Let's get this over with, shall we? Please tell Mr. Grey and Mr. Anderson that we're ready for the meeting." I try to keep the tension from my voice.

"Certainly." Mrs. Barron steps out of the room.

I'm hurt, confused. For a brief moment I consider calling off the wedding, but I know in my heart Christian and I are meant to be together.

Mr. Anderson and Mrs. Barron enter, joining me at the round table. Christian is a no-show.

"Where's Mr. Grey?" I ask Mr. Anderson.

"Some banking paperwork was just delivered, and he's looking it over." Christian's attorney is a pleasant man, who is trying his best to put a nice face on this prenup business.

"I suppose there's no reason to wait for Mr. Grey. I'll go ahead and sign the paperwork."

"You and Mrs. Barron met so briefly. Did you have a chance to read through the agreement?"

"I don't want to read it. Mrs. Barron assures me our children will have what they need, so I'll sign it. Give me the papers."

Mr. Anderson puts a stack of papers in front of me. There are clips and post-it arrows showing me where to sign and date.

As I sign the last page, Christian enters.

"Your turn," I say tersely, shoving the stack in Christian's direction.

"Everything okay?" His voice is strained. He cocks his head to one side, with his chin tilted up.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"You sound pissed."

Oh, hell, no. I don't care if our lawyers are in the room. I'm calling him out on this.

"Well, of course, I'm pissed. I don't care about your money, so signing a prenup isn't a big deal. You keeping this from me, surprising me at the eleventh hour, leaving me to meet alone with lawyers...I'm beyond aggravated."

"I'm sorry, baby. I decided on this yesterday, and I just couldn't find the right moment. I had hoped to speak to you before Mrs. Barron's arrival."

"That's not true. You could've awakened me, if you really wanted to talk about this."

"You need your sleep."

"I need sleep, but I'll forsake that anytime in favor of full disclosure."

"Touché, baby. Maybe I was afraid of your reaction, so I put off telling you." His voice is low, the tone apologetic.

"We'll discuss this later." No need to overshare in front of our lawyers.

"Yes, well, here's the banking paperwork, and Andrea put together the forms for changing your name. Driver's license, social security, and so on."

"Change my name? I never considered that." I'm messing with him now.

Christian's eyes widen with alarm and distress.

"What? You can't spring this on me now. You've never said a word about keeping your maiden name."

"I couldn't find the right moment, so I put off telling you."

Mrs. Barron and Mr. Anderson softly chuckle. Christian purses his lips, and gently slaps the top of the table.

"You and your smart mouth. I'm truly sorry. This prenup really is about looking after you." Christian takes my hand, and presses my knuckles softly to his lips.

"Is there anything I should know before I sign the banking paperwork? I don't want any more surprises."

"This gives you access to our accounts. Sign with your married name."

In my prettiest script, I sign 'Anastasia Steele Grey.'

Christian looks over my shoulder, and lets out a sigh of relief.

"No hyphen. Thank you for taking my name."

"I may be irritated right now, but I do love you. And I'm proud to become Ana Grey."

Christian pulls me into his lap, and holds me as I add my new signature to the sheaf of papers. His PDA in front of our lawyers surprises me.

"Is that all?"

Mr. Anderson places two more folders in front of us.

"This is a joint will. Mr. Grey has already signed."

"What's a joint will?" What in the world am I getting myself into?

"It's a last will and testament shared by two people, typically spouses," Mr. Anderson explains. "When one spouse dies, the survivor inherits everything. When the second spouse dies, everything goes to the children or another designate. This document has a provision stating neither spouse can change or revoke the will alone, meaning it can't be changed after the first spouse dies."

"And why do we need this?" I turn back to look at Christian. He tightens his embrace.

"If you remarry, I don't want some fucker getting his hands on our money. Before you say anything, I trust your judgment, and I don't think you'd take up with some loser. I need this for my peace of mind."

"Of course. Since you hired an attorney for me, let me ask her." Christian rolls his eyes in response to my annoyance. "Mrs. Barron, is this in my best interests?"

"I believe so. You expressed a desire to protect your children. With this document, the children wouldn't worry about their inheritance going to a stepparent. The terms are locked in, so the children are guaranteed to inherit everything."

"Sounds good." I sign the will, a document I never thought I'd have at such a young age.

"This is the last piece of business," Mr. Anderson tells me. "These papers deal with the ownership of GEH. This packet also includes the order of succession for GEH." I know the drill now and I begin signing at each of the arrows. "It includes Mr. Grey's wishes that the business stay in the hands of your children. Suggestions for generational transition are outlined, along with Ms. Bailey's role and yours."

"My role?" Christian's arms squeeze around me gently.

"Mr. Grey has given you a fifty percent share," Mr. Anderson says, "so as half owner, you certainly have a role. Whether the role is active or not is up to you."

"Half owner?"

Christian turns me in his lap.

"Baby, didn't you read the prenup?"

"No."

"You may not want it, but what's mine is now yours. You own fifty percent of everything."

"That's the prenup?"

I'm flabbergasted.

"Yes, that and the cheat clause."

"Cheat?" My throat is tight and I'm sure my voice sounds shrill. "You think I'll cheat?"

"No. This cheat clause is unilateral. It's a demonstration of the depth of my devotion."

"I don't understand." Christian's prenup confounds me.

"Mia was going on about some idiot actor worried about keeping his dick in his pants. So he put a cheat clause in his prenup. He agreed to pay his wife a million dollars each time he strays. Cheapskate."

"You think you'll cheat?"

"Never! But I know my past must sometimes give you pause, so I put the cheat clause in to reassure you."

"Hell, no. A payoff won't make me feel any better. You cheat and I'll leave you."

"And I would deserve that. If I behave badly, the cheat clause gives you everything."

"What?"

Mrs. Barron opens the folder with the prenup, and pushes it toward me.

"If Mr. Grey flirts, shares confidences, texts, sexts, visits strip clubs, fetish clubs, or in any way behaves inappropriately, you get everything. GEH, every piece of real estate, every stock, every bond. He wants another party present in any meetings with female associates. Ros Bailey is the only exception to the meeting rule. He will not dance with anyone other than family members. And of course, holding hands, kissing, and all other sexual acts, including BDSM, are included in the list of behaviors."

"Christian!" I slap his knee. "Have you lost your mind? I don't want your money, and I trust you."

"I know. And I love you for that. Please, baby, accept the agreement. Do it for me. I want you to feel cherished. I hold you above every other human on the planet."

"Fine. I'll accept your offer. If I don't, I won't hear the end of it."

Christian needs a great deal of reassurance from me, and he thinks I need the same level of reassurance from him. This cheat clause is a relic from his old submissive days, those days when he exchanged money and goods for sex. Romantic love is a new currency for him.

"You two are adorable. This is one unforgettable prenup. The wedding is today?" Mrs. Barron beams at us.

"Yes." Christian and I answer in unison.

 **Grace**

"Your meetings went well, I presume."

I'm dying to know why Cleve Anderson and Mrs. Barron came for a meeting so early on a Sunday morning. Carrick recognized Mrs. Barron from local bar association meetings. I can't imagine Ana having legal woes.

"Yes," Christian offers. "I want Anastasia to learn more about law and finance."

"And did you?" I query Ana.

"A bit. Christian, will you help me set the table?"

"Gretchen will do that. Come sit. Carrick and I want to talk about last night."

Christian and Ana dutifully follow me into the family room, staking claim to one of the loveseats.

Carrick sets aside the Sunday paper, making space for me to sit. He squeezes my hand in reassurance. We've been seeing a marriage therapist recommended by John Flynn. We're working through past hurts, trust issues, and of course, Elena Lincoln's assault on our family.

"About last night," Carrick stops to clear his throat, "we want to apologize to both of you for what happened with Elena. We've said it before, son, it's our fault she was able to abuse you. We were negligent parents, and we'll never be able to make it up to you. Ana, to think what she almost did to you…it's horrifying."

"Dad, stop. There's plenty of blame to go around. The only choice we have is to move forward." Christian's arm tightens around Ana's shoulders, and he pulls her closer. "Who knows—maybe I had to go through the abuse, in order to fully appreciate Anastasia and my family. In any case, let's speak of Elena as little as possible. I want the legal proceedings against her to move quickly, so there's no need to speak of her again."

Ana leans her head against Christian's shoulder.

"I'm sorry for not rejoining the party last night," she says. "My dress was badly torn, and after all the fuss, I was exhausted."

"No need to apologize, dear," I say. "We understand. Everyone enjoyed meeting our newest board member."

In truth, our guests were fascinated by Ana, the beautiful woman who has stolen Christian Grey's heart. Everyone wanted to know all about her. I was thrilled at the opportunity to brag about Ana and her charms.

"How did you explain the arrival of the police and ambulance?" Ana missed all the chatter and speculation among our guests.

"We told the bare facts. You and Mia discovered an intruder in the house. There was a struggle, and the trespasser was injured. After the police left, Mia changed her gown and rejoined the party. She didn't get to bed until late, which must be the reason she's not up yet."

"Please tell Mia good-bye for us. Ana and I have a big day planned, and we need to get on the road." Christian squeezes Ana's hand, and leans forward to make a quick exit.

Christian enjoys keeping his plans to himself, and I'm disappointed he and Ana won't be spending the day with us. He's a man in love, and he wants to keep Ana all for himself.

"At least stay for breakfast." The mention of food seems to weaken his resolve.

"I'm hungry," Ana asserts. "Could we please stay a bit longer? I want to wake Mia. Maybe she can join us."

"Okay, baby, you do need to eat. But we can only spare an hour."

Ana has Christian wrapped around her finger, and it's sweet to see the trust they share.

"Thank you." Ana kisses Christian's cheek, and takes off to wake Mia.

A ping comes from Christian's phone, and when he looks at the screen, he smiles broadly.

"I have a realtor looking for a place where I can keep my boat. She says there's a house available on this street. It hasn't been listed yet. She's e-mailing the details."

"That's probably the Lorton house," Carrick offers. "It's been tied up in probate for a while."

"Shit…next door to the old Lincoln place. I won't live next to that."

"See if you can acquire both places," Carrick suggests. "It's not as if you don't have the money to entice the owners to sell. You can tear down the Lincoln house, and enjoy the extra large lot."

"That's a solution." Christian brightens. "I'll need space to create housing for Gail and my security team." I'm surprised he'd consider living nearby. It's been all we can do to get him to Sunday dinner once a month. "Who bought the Lincoln place?"

"First it was a couple of young guys, flippers. They sold the house to one of the Davenport kids. Do I have that right?" Carrick looks to me.

"Yes, Jennifer Davenport and her husband bought the house. I do hope it works out. Having you right down the street would be so lovely. Does Ana know you're moving?" I can't contain my glee.

"Yes, she knows. I'm not leaving Escala, just looking for a place where I can keep the Grace, and relax on the weekends."

"I see." I try to hide my disappointment. "Any extra time with you is wonderful. Keep us posted on the house situation."

"Of course. Could you two do me a favor? It's about the party on the 25th. I'm inviting all of our extended family, and I'd like you to give them a heads up. It's important that everyone's in attendance. Invitations go out in the next couple of days."

"Your first party! You're trying to hide your excitement, but I can see right through you."

Christian's eyes dance with mirth. Just like his tailored suits, happiness looks good on him.

"Ana and I are planning this together."

Oh, my goodness, I bet it's an engagement party.

"What's Ana wearing? Has she chosen a gown?"

"Yes, she and Katherine are both wearing gowns by Dana Kavanagh. And spread the word, I don't want any of the ladies wearing white, cream, gray, or black. Only festive colors."

"What is this mysterious acquisition?" Carrick asks.

"Technically it's more of a merger. It's a surprise. The biggest deal ever."

I can't wait. It will be wonderful to celebrate and put the Elena misery behind us.

 **Christian**

"All done." I place the phone in my jacket pocket.

"When will we hear back?" Ana claps her hands and wiggles against the black leather car upholstery.

"Mrs. Kelly is presenting the offers this afternoon. We've given them 48 hours to respond."

I made an offer on the Lorton place. I've also proposed a deal for the properties on either side. They aren't for sale, but large sums of cash can be an enticement.

"Oh, I do hope it works out. I love the house. There's so much room for children to play. We can get a dog—two dogs?" Anastasia is more than just a little bit excited.

"Yes, Anastasia." I tap her nose with my forefinger. "Two dogs." If she wants a kennel full, I'll get them for her.

After leaving my folks, we walked the grounds of the Lorton place. The house has been empty a while, and needs quite a bit of work, but my bride fell in love with the property.

The best thing about the house for me is the enormous dock. New code prohibits the construction of such a long, wide dock, but this house is grandfathered, so the dock stays.

Taylor pulls up to the jet. Anastasia reaches for my hand.

"You sure about this, baby? Ready to get married?"

"Can't wait, Mr. Grey."

The flight isn't a long one, and Anastasia wants privacy. She requested that Natalia not come along. It's Stephan and Beighley, with Taylor and Sawyer along for security.

It's Sunday and the courthouse is normally closed.

Judge Walter Hawkins is a friend of Dad's, and when I called explaining our plans for a secret wedding, he was on board. He and the clerk of court will preside over the ceremony.

After the seat belt signs are turned off, Anastasia and I retire to the bedroom to change our clothes.

Anastasia shimmies out of her jeans, and I follow suit with my own clothes. She presses her body to mine, and links her fingers around my neck.

"Mr. Grey, I'm getting married this afternoon, and I'd like one last fling as a single girl."

"And what would your groom say about that?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him." She bites her lower lip, and bats her eyes. She's irresistible. Just standing close to her makes me rock hard.

"His heart would be broken to know his bride is a two-timer. But if you're going to cheat, I'm happy it's with me."

"Only with you, Mr. Grey."

She pushes me onto the bed, and goes straight to work on my dick. Sweet mother of God. Anastasia takes me to the back of her throat and swallows me, again and again.

"Stop, baby. Let's try something new." We've enjoyed oral sex several times in the course of our short relationship, but I want to do something I've never done with anyone else.

"What did you have in mind?"

She crawls up to me and plants a tantalizing kiss at the hollow of my neck. Her hard nipples brush against my chest.

"I've never done this before. I want to taste you, while you suck me off. Sixty-nine?"

"I know what that is. Do we do it side by side, or one on top of the other?"

I've never done this with Elena or a sub, because it involves giving up too much control.

"Let's try both ways. Sit on my face."

Anastasia giggles as she climbs aboard. Our height differential makes this position awkward, and there's lots of laughter and squirming about as we play. We roll all over the bed as we try to find something that feels just right.

"Would it be alright if I just get on top and grind it out?" She's impatient, eager to find a release.

"Grind it out? You just want to use me?"

"Yes, Mr. Grey." She straddles me, and grabs my dick with both hands. "This is my cock, to have and to hold."

Anastasia sheathes me with her wet warmth, and I am her happy servant.

XXXXXXX

"How long have I slept?" I feel quite refreshed.

Anastasia stares up at the cabin ceiling.

"Ten minutes at the most. How was your catnap?"

"Nice. I get so much sleep around you." She's quiet, still. I reach for her. "You're deep in thought. Tell me."

"I'm so grateful for what we have. Let's never stop doing this." She snuggles into me.

"Until the last breath leaves my body, I'll never stop loving you. You own me, Anastasia."

"And I'm yours." The warm air produced by her words tickles my chest. It's a glorious feeling.

"Baby, I need to ask you. We've pledged monogamy, and in the prenup, I laid out my definition. What's yours?"

"I agree with your definition. No sharing of confidences or flirting or texting. And certainly no physical intimacy. I won't disrespect you, but I'm a friendly person. I'll continue to be the person I've always been."

"I accept that, Anastasia. It may be difficult for me sometimes, but I like you the way you are."

My beautiful bride rewards me with a soft kiss.

"We should get out of this bed, and get dressed. I've been looking forward to seeing you in that blue suit again."

"Baby, we never chose wedding bands. Let's look those over first." I reach into my overnight bag.

"I know what I like. I prefer a plain, classic gold band. No embellishments."

"Like these?" I choose the simplest pair in the tray, and I hold them out to her.

"Yes, those are exactly what I'd imagined."

"With this ring, I thee wed." I slip the band on her left ring finger.

She picks up the mate, and places it on my left hand.

"With this ring, Mr. Grey, I thee wed."

"They fit perfectly. It's a sign. Our union is meant to be."

"Meant to be," Anastasia whispers.

"Let's never take them off."

"Never," she agrees.

 **Anastasia**

Some girls grow up wanting an over the top confection of a wedding. As much as I love the gown Mama K designed for me, I've never fantasized about a ceremony or reception.

I've found the man for me, and this courthouse wedding suits us. I don't even need this, because I already feel wed to Christian.

The short white lace dress fits like a dream. It's my "something new." Christian's personal shopper selected it, but I couldn't have done better myself. It's lovely, perfect for this occasion. I've paired it with my sweet sixteen pearls, and the blue Carrie Bradshaw heels I borrowed from Kate.

An elderly woman unlocks the courthouse door for us. Taylor is right behind us, but Luke has left to run a mysterious errand.

"You must be Anastasia and Christian. Welcome to the Flathead County Courthouse. I'm Dolores Forbes, and I'll handle your license. Follow me, please."

She directs us to the judges' chamber, and sits across from us at a table. We produce our documents, and as Ms. Forbes looks them over, I hear the door open. It's Luke, and there's a young woman with him. She has a camera bag strapped across her chest, and she immediately sets to work snapping photos.

"Thank you, Mr. Grey. You thought of everything." I kiss Christian's cheek.

Luke hands a large plastic box to Christian.

"Roses for my Rose." My love presents me with a gorgeous bridal bouquet of white roses.

"Oh, Christian." I can't control my joyous tears.

"Don't cry yet, baby. Save that for when I fuck up." Taylor and Luke join me in laughter.

The photographer captures all of it, us laughing, kissing, signing our license, and of course, the ceremony.

Judge Hawkins greets us with a wink and a broad smile. His eyes twinkle with the merriment of someone who knows a joke, and might let you in on it.

"This is one of the best perks of my job. You two ready to get hitched?"

We nod in enthusiasm.

He shares some brief thoughts on the sanctity of marriage, and before I know it we are exchanging vows.

"I, Christian, take you, Anastasia, to be my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward."

"I, Anastasia, take you, Christian, to be my husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward."

In unison, we complete our vows. Our voices are strong and sure.

"For better, for worse,

For richer, for poorer,

In sickness and in health,

To love and to cherish,

Till death do us part."

Judge Hawkins pronounces us man and wife, and invites Christian to kiss me.

My husband's lips are gentle and warm. It's a tender kiss, filled with the promise of wonderful things to come.

"Mrs. Grey, you are mine now in every possible way."

"Yours. Take me home, Mr. Grey."

 **XXXXXXX**

 **Special thanks to nikkistew2 for giving this chapter a close read. Her chapter notes were filled with great wisdom, encouragement, and insightful observations, and I am forever in her debt.**


	25. Threshold

**The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 25**

 **Threshold**

 **Sunday, June 12, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

"You don't need these right now."

Christian takes my bridal bouquet and tote, handing them off to Sawyer, who now looks quite ridiculous. Sawyer playfully poses with the tote on his shoulder, and the bouquet held to his nose. Taylor snaps a picture of Sawyer on his phone, and all four of us share a hearty laugh.

With their boss in a jolly mood, both Sawyer and Taylor have enjoyed our Montana sojourn.

My handsome husband scoops me up in his arms, embracing his role as groom. I relish his adoration and attention. With the exception of a security guard, the Escala lobby is empty. Taylor snaps photos until the elevator doors close.

"Push 'PH' for the penthouse," my darling man instructs. "Then use the keypad to input the code. It's our combined initials and birthdates…ARS0910CTG0618. I changed it after I met you in Montana."

"It's easy to remember, but such a prosaic code doesn't seem very secure."

"I rather like it, but I'll let you come up with something more imaginative. I'm happy to hear that you're security minded. Ready to see your new home?"

"Can't wait." I kiss his cheek.

Christian's eyes blink rapidly and he looks straight ahead. He needn't be nervous about this. I'm expecting a bachelor pad, not a spa retreat.

"I'm looking forward to the kitchen…and your bedroom." Hoping to reassure him, I offer a playful wink.

"Our bedroom. Other than family and staff, no one's ever seen my bedroom."

"Not even Mrs. Robinson?" I'm sure she inserted herself in his business at every opportunity.

I feel Christian's body tense. His grip around me tightens.

"Shit…full disclosure. Mrs. Lincoln helped me find the apartment and the decorator. She saw the master bedroom once, completely empty, years ago. But she's never stayed overnight. I see those wheels turning…the sex ended before I bought this place. She did come for dinner or pop in for a visit occasionally."

I don't like his answer. It's disturbing to know his abuser helped him choose the apartment and decorate it. It prejudices me. I haven't set foot in the place, and I already dislike it.

I kiss his beautiful mouth and the elevator opens to reveal Sawyer, Taylor, and a woman who must be Mrs. Jones. She's fortyish, with dark blonde hair and soft brown eyes. How did Taylor and Sawyer get up here ahead of us?

"Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Grey," they say in unison.

"Thank you." I'm touched by their warmth and care.

Christian carries me across the elevator threshold, through the foyer, into a spacious living area.

"As much as I love your arms around me, please put me down. I want to wander around, get a feel for the place."

He sets me down, but takes my hand.

"Wander? No, you're staying right next to me."

The space is bright and open. Have I entered a high end furniture showroom? There's nothing personal about it. The walls are stark white, with the exception of one wall the color of wet cement. The upholstery is covered in dull shades of gray. The art is abstract, mostly black and white. The apartment is cold, both literally and figuratively.

I let go of Christian's hand, and wrap my arms around myself.

"You okay, baby? Looks like you've caught a chill."

"Do you mind adjusting the thermostat?"

"Whatever you like." Christian looks worried. He's texting someone, probably about resetting the room temperature.

I turn to look for Sawyer, Taylor, and Mrs. Jones, but they're gone. I want to get acquainted with Mrs. Jones, and learn how Christian's domestic life operates.

"Give me a tour. Kitchen first, please."

Christian takes my hand and leads me to a sleek kitchen, filled with high end appliances. I should be jumping up and down over all this high-efficiency gadgetry, but something about the apartment gives me the willies.

I want to like this place. I really do. It's my husband's home, and it's where we'll start our married life.

"What do you think?" There's hope in his voice.

I don't want to hurt his feelings.

"It's a cook's dream." Not this cook's dream, but somebody's. "Show me the rest of your place."

"Our place. Come."

He proudly shows me the room Elliot calls the "balls room." It's a bit warmer than the more public areas. There's Seahawks and Mariners memorabilia displayed on the white walls.

Where are the family photos? So far I haven't seen any.

When we get to his study, I have an immediate visceral reaction. Nothing is out of order, but something is off about the room. The desk is a boxy behemoth in dark walnut; for some reason, I don't want to touch it. On the walls I see framed articles about GEH, Christian's magnificent visage gracing magazine covers, and various awards for philanthropy.

Next on the tour is the library. The shelves are lined with first editions, and there are large leather club chairs for curling up with a book. I wouldn't change a thing about this room. It's inviting, and I can imagine spending happy hours here.

"I like this room very much. It's tranquil. Cozy."

"Unfortunately it doesn't get much use. I believe Mrs. Jones and I are the only people who've been in here. Perhaps you can take it over, make it your office."

"Thank you. I'd like that. You spoil me, you know. What's upstairs?"

"Come." Christian's nerves are on display again. He closes his eyes tightly and swallows. His fingers flex, curling and uncurling.

"There's something you don't want to show me."

Christian nods sadly. He pushes hair off my face, and pulls me to him, resting his chin on top of my head. I hate not being able to see him, but sensing he needs to keep his face hidden from me, I don't push back from him.

"I went back and forth about it. I considered having the rooms dismantled, but I wanted to show you what life was like before you."

"Maybe you didn't empty the rooms, because you don't want to give them up." Isn't it human nature to cling to the familiar, even when it isn't healthy?

"No. That's not it. I want my new life with you." He holds me tight, and I feel the comfort of his heat, the steady thump of his heartbeat.

"Let's go, husband." Christian smiles at the mention of his new title.

He leads me slowly up the staircase.

The first door is partially ajar. I push it open.

It's a lovely bedroom, white with silver foil paper on the accent wall behind the bed. There's a dressing table. It's a pretty room, quite feminine, but it evokes melancholy, and I'm not sure why.

"Do you recall the contract…when I said you'd have your own room? This would have been the room."

"The submissive bedroom. Did you have sex with them in here?"

"No. This was their sanctuary. Usually I administered aftercare in the playroom, but sometimes I did it here. Occasionally I came to the door to let them know I was ready for them, or to pass information, but I rarely darkened this threshold."

"Aftercare was one of the topics I came across on the internet. What kind of aftercare did you administer?" Shit. Do I really want to know?

"Arnica cream, water, tea, sometimes a hot bath."

"You got into the tub with them?" I hate the thought of such intimacy between Christian and his subs.

"No, with my phobia I was afraid of the risk. We were out of scene as well, and I didn't want to risk them thinking I was offering more."

"What about hugging, kissing, cuddling?" According to my research, that's part of aftercare.

"No, baby, that would be more."

"Not even with Leila?"

"Not with any of them."

I let out a sigh of relief.

"That's been bothering you, hasn't it?"

"More than I knew." Christian follows me from the room, and shuts the door. "That room has to go. I hate it."

It feels good to let out my feelings.

"Agreed. If you didn't like that room, you really won't like the next one. The playroom. Want to see it?"

"I want to understand your life before me." I want to know all sides of my husband. I want to be his lifeline, his support, his rock.

"Thank you." Christian kisses the top of my head, and takes my hand. "Let me show you where the key is kept."

At the end of the hall is a large utility room. There's a washer and dryer next to a large sink. A long counter for folding clothes runs along the opposing wall. Christian opens a cabinet to reveal rows of keys on hooks. He pulls out a large brass key on a brass ring.

"Odd...This key should always be on the first hook, but it's on the middle hook with the key to our bedroom."

It's just like my very particular husband to notice something out of order. Mrs. Jones must've put the key on the wrong hook after cleaning.

"Our bedroom. That has a nice sound." I rest a hand on Christian's hip.

"Yes, it does." He kisses my lips lightly. "Let's get this over with, so I can show you that room of ours."

When we reach the playroom door, Christian turns the key. His eyes are fixed on me, watching for a reaction. He ever so slowly opens the door, and holds it wide, so I can enter first.

He flips the wall switch. Soft overhead lights shine through a ceiling grid, to reveal deep red walls. The ambience is romantic, and for that reason alone, I hate it. How could a woman enter this sanctum and not hope for more with Mr. Grey?

This room is quite different from the cool palette and hard surfaces dominating the rest of the apartment. The carved four poster bed suggests my husband might have a taste for antiques. Dark wood cabinets complement the bed. Decorative brass racks hold implements of pain.

The overall effect is overwhelming. The room is both lovely and repulsive.

"What do you think?"

"I hate it."

Christian looks pained. Surely he can't be surprised by my dislike of a room where he shared pleasure with other women.

"The room has some lovely aspects to it, but I hate it all the same. Would you enjoy seeing a bed where over a dozen men had fucked me? Or look at objects that had been used in sex acts with other men?"

"Of course not. The mere idea of that is repugnant."

Hanging next to a black riding crop is an object I recognize as a flogger. Soft strands of suede are accented with tiny clear beads. Attracted by the shimmer and sparkle, I run my finger through the fine strips of leather. I recoil the instant I realize I'm touching something that has been in contact with his subs.

A sudden wave of nausea overtakes me.

"What's wrong?" Christian's hands are on my shoulders. "Tell me."

"I don't feel well. I just realized the subs…their DNA…is on these floggers and crops. I need to get out of here."

I rush into the hallway, and Christian locks up behind me.

"I'm so sorry, baby. The room will be removed in short order."

"No need for apologies. I'll get past this."

"Let's go to our bedroom. You can rest, while I call Ros and Andrea."

"What else is up here?"

"More guestrooms, but they've only been used a few times, when Elliot and Mia have stayed overnight."

The door to the master bedroom is open, but I notice two locks, a cipher and a deadbolt.

"Two locks?"

Christian's lip curls in disgust.

"When Leila was my sub, Taylor and I caught her trying to enter my room. I should've sent her packing right away, but I didn't. Another miscalculation."

Christian's bedroom, our bedroom, is a soft, muted shade of turquoise, with cream and brown accents. I throw myself onto the bed so hard, I bounce.

"Oh my gosh, this mattress is divine." I sink into the perfect blend of soft and firm. The duvet cover is a silk cloud, and I can't stop running my hands over it.

Christian pulls off my shoes, and massages my feet.

"Heaven. I've died and gone to heaven."

"Oh, baby, every minute on earth with you is heaven. Let me help you out of that dress."

I turn so Christian has access to the zipper. He plants gentle kisses on my neck and down my back as he slowly unzips. He pushes the dress up my thighs.

"Raise your arms," he commands. Once off, he tosses the dress over a nearby chair. "That bridal lingerie suits you. Don't take it off. That's my job. Warm the bed for me."

He pulls the covers back, and I climb in.

"Don't be long," I say.

"Just a few minutes. I need to call Ros. The paperwork I need is in my study."

A kiss and he's gone.

I close my eyes to nap, but my mind races.

I'm too keyed up for sleep.

I climb out of bed to explore our bedroom. There are two sets of double doors on the wall opposite the bed.

The doors on the right lead to large spa-like bathroom. The tub is egg-shaped. A shelf next to it holds a bottle of bath oil. I uncap it and draw in the woodsy citrus scent. There's no bubble bath. We'll have to remedy that. I want a bubble bath with my man. The shower is large with two rain heads and a river rock floor. Those smooth stones will feel nice under my feet.

The other doors lead to the largest closet I've ever seen. I run my fingers over suits and shirts. I spy a blue dress shirt, and take the liberty of putting it on. I fasten the two middle buttons and roll up the sleeves.

My exploration leads me to all manner of interesting discoveries. There's a display case with Christian's wrist watch collection, and another showcasing cuff links. He has a specially designed sock drawer, and another with boxer briefs neatly rolled into straight rows.

Then I see something that looks out of place. It's a black cardboard box, the kind used to archive documents.

I hesitate over opening it, but we're married now. No secrets and all that.

I flip off the lid, and what I see shakes me to my very core.

It's a stack of photographs. The Dom and his subs. In the playroom, in many positions. Who knew there were so many sexual possibilities?

My mind swims with rage, sadness, fear.

Mostly rage.

Yes, let's go with rage.

I put the lid back in place, clutch the box to my chest, and take off in search of my husband.

 **Christian**

"That's all. Thanks, Andrea. Please put me through to Ros."

Where the hell is Ros? The damn phone has rung five times, and she hasn't answered. Of course Ros doesn't know I have a wife now. A wife who awaits me in our bed. It's been less than ten minutes since I left my beautiful wife, but I need to see her again.

I leave a voice mail for Ros, telling her to call me ASAP. As I shut down the call, the door flies open.

It's Anastasia.

She slams the door behind her. Her eyes are wild with fury. What the fuck is going on? She opens a box, and pulls out a sheaf of papers.

"You insensitive bastard!" She throws the box and its contents at me, and they scatter across the desk and floor.

Fuck me in the heart! These are photos of Leila and me.

"Where did these come from?" These images were stored in my safe. How did my wife find them?

"As if you don't know. Honestly, I admit to being less sophisticated than your other women, but I didn't just fall off the turnip truck." Anastasia trembles with anger. Her small fists are balled up at her sides. I've never seen her like this.

"The photos were an insurance policy. Elena suggested I take them in case one of the subs decided to violate the NDA."

"Oh, I suppose that's why they were in your closet. Puh-leez. This is what you need to get yourself off, your special little spank bank. You couldn't be bothered to move them out of our bedroom?"

She's so beautiful in my shirt, and I watch tears spill onto the blue cotton. My baby hurts inside and it's my fault.

I want to pull her to me, and never let go, but she's unapproachable right now. I have no idea what to do in a situation like this.

Talk, Grey. Explain the situation.

"Those photos have always been stored in my safe." I reach behind me and pull back a hidden bookcase hinge to reveal my safe. "This has Leila written all over it. She's broken into my study before, and these are pictures of her. The safe combination is a long one, difficult to remember, and I keep it taped to the inside of my bottom desk drawer. She may have seen me open the safe, or with all her snooping, Leila might have discovered the safe and the combination. And the playroom key was in the wrong spot. My staff would never return the key improperly. It's Leila's way of letting me know she's been here."

"Call the cops. Report her, like you should have when she cut herself." Anastasia sniffles, and wipes her face with the shirt sleeve.

"Call the police and say what? I don't have proof it's her, just a suspicion."

I pull her to me, wrap my arms around her, and kiss the top of her head.

"I hate this place. I need to leave." Her voice carries a sad, flat note. Her arms hang limp at her sides. She won't return my embrace. We've been wed less than twelve hours, and she's leaving me?

"You can't leave me. I won't let you."

"Silly man. I'm not leaving you." She runs her hands up and down my arms. "I'm leaving this apartment. I can't live without you…but I can't stay here. Everywhere I turn, there's evidence of Mrs. Lincoln or a sub. I'm uncomfortable. We should go to Kate's apartment, where we can sleep in my bed. It's not as nice as yours, but I feel safe there."

"I get it. If I had to live in a place where you'd fucked another man, I couldn't bear it. Get dressed, and we'll go spend the night at your old place. Let me throw a bag together and speak to Taylor."

Her underwear has been on display for all the world to see. I button up the shirt and hope Taylor and Sawyer haven't seen anything. She is for my eyes only.

Anastasia won't embrace me, but she leans into me, her head on my chest.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I thought I was stronger than this."

"It's okay, baby. Truly."

"I love you."

"And I love you, Mrs. Grey."

 **Anastasia**

I return to the master bedroom, freshen up, and put my wedding dress back on. I go in search of Mrs. Jones. I want to get to know her.

I find her in the kitchen, cleaning the oven, a loathsome job to be sure.

"Mrs. Jones? Do you have a few minutes to speak with me?"

"Of course, Mrs. Grey. May I get you a refreshment?" Mrs. Jones has a lovely smile and a serene presence. She puts me at ease, something I need after such an unhappy introduction to my new home.

"Thank you. A cup of tea would be wonderful. Please call me Ana. May I call you Gail? I'd like very much if the two of us could be on a first name basis."

Mrs. Jones fills a kettle for the tea.

"Mr. Grey prefers formality with staff."

"The two of us will work together closely, so please call me Ana."

"Of course. And please call me Gail."

"Christian and I are still getting to know each other, and maybe you can help me. I have questions about his routines, and how the household is run. Tell me about his favorite foods."

"Mr. Grey is easy to please. He rises early, goes for a run with Taylor, gets ready for work, then has breakfast. He and Taylor are out the door by seven. His favorite dish is macaroni and cheese. Breakfast is usually an egg white omelet. For lunch he's perfectly happy with a sandwich. Put anything on a sub, and he's content."

Mrs. Jones means well, but she's unknowingly stepped in a minefield. Her reference to subs, even the sandwich kind, hits me hard, and my heart sinks.

"There you are. Ready to go?" Christian has a small duffle bag.

"Sure. Gail and I were just getting acquainted." I give Christian a peck on cheek. "She's telling me all your secrets."

Christian's face falls, and he looks to his housekeeper.

"Sir, we were just discussing your food preferences and daily household routines."

Christian huffs a sigh of relief.

"Perhaps you can continue this discussion tomorrow. Ana and I will spend the night at her place, but we'll drop in here tomorrow to meet with a decorator. Have you seen Taylor?"

A decorator? This is news to me.

"He was here a few minutes ago, sir. He took a call from Welch." The kettle whistles, and Gail pulls out a mug. "Twinings English Breakfast, Ana?"

"Yes, thank you." I give Christian another peck on the cheek, knowing he shared my preferences with Gail. I'm becoming quite spoiled.

"Sir, may I speak to you in your study?" It's Taylor, and he sounds concerned.

"Gail says you took a call from Welch. Go ahead and tell me. Anastasia and I have no secrets."

"It's about Mrs. Lincoln. We know how she eluded us. She had a gate added to her backyard fencing. It opened to the service alley that runs behind her house. She was walking to a friend's house, and the friend was helping her get around town."

"Who's the friend?"

"A fellow Domme named Lorna Stovall. In the community she's called Mistress Lori."

The color drains from Christian's face.

"What's wrong? Did you know her?" I take Christian's face in my hands. "Tell me."

"Lorna Stovall tried to interfere with my parents' marriage. And I didn't know it at the time, but she's the Domme I was loaned out to…I only knew her as Mistress Lori." I pull Christian tightly to me.

"Sir, there's more. Welch found a link with your first submissive, someone named Corinne Davis Harmon…"

"Of course there's a link. Elena is the one who selected Corinne as my sub."

"Sir, the link goes beyond Mrs. Lincoln and Mrs. Harmon."

"How so?"

"Lorna Stovall is Corinne Harmon's mother. And all three women had contact with Leila Williams and the other submissives."

"What the fuck!" Christian slams a fist against the breakfast bar. "At every turn, I discover another way I've been played."

"The police have already questioned the mother/daughter duo, and they're singing like canaries. Apparently Mrs. Lincoln was determined that if she wasn't going to get you and your money, then neither was Miss Steele. Stovall was with Lincoln when she purchased battery acid. The cops have them on the store security camera. Stovall's cut a deal to testify against Mrs. Lincoln."

"Why the fuck does she get to cut a deal? She needs to do some jail time herself. Was Corinne involved in any of this?"

"It doesn't appear so, sir."

 **Christian**

"I've got one helluva mess on my hands," I tell Ana. "I'll never rid myself of these women. I'm so sorry, baby."

"Elena, the Stovall woman, the submissives…they're like cockroaches," she says. "You see one, but you know there are dozens more living behind the walls. The way I see it, there's only one way to dispose of them."

"And how's that?" I'm open to any method, short of murder, to keep these women out of my life.

"Sunshine is the best disinfectant. Your need for privacy allows the women to hold something over you. If you out yourself, you take away their power. Take control of the narrative, and tell your story your own way."

Exposure of my past puts too much at risk.

"I'll embarrass my family, hurt my business. One day our children will hear about my past, and they'll be ashamed of me."

"There's no shame in what you've done. You have me and your family. We'll stand behind you. Your children will love and accept you. They'll respect you for living a truthful, open life."

Anastasia seems so sure of this.

"It's something to consider. Let me give it some thought."

Anastasia is miserable over the apartment, Leila, and Elena. I don't want her stressed out and fearful. It's not good for her or our baby. I didn't plan on spending our wedding night with Ethan Kavanagh in the next room, but that apartment is where my wife feels safe right now. I consider insisting on the Fairmont, but I'm in no position to make demands.

Taylor drops us at the Pike Place apartment. He'll pick us up in the morning. I carry Anastasia over the threshold again, and she gets a fit of giggles. We enter to find Kavanagh eating pizza and drinking beer with some of his buddies. The short shit with scraggly brown hair perks up when he sees my wife.

"Hey, doll. I've missed you. I wouldn't turn down some of your lemon bars or brownies."

"Sorry, Mutt, I'm not in the mood for baking tonight. Guys, this is my other half, Christian. Christian, meet Ethan's childhood crew."

Mutt. Who in the actual fuck nicknames their kid Mutt?

Kavanagh cranes his neck, and hits the mute button on whatever Neanderthal television show they were watching.

"What's with the rings? Looks like you've been playing around, trying on wedding bands. Cute, Steele." Kavanagh doesn't seem to understand that Anastasia and I are legally married.

Anastasia shrugs, and holds my left hand up alongside hers, pointing at the gold bands.

"We're staying here tonight. Don't mind us," she tells Kavanagh.

She pulls me into her bedroom, locks the doorknob, and throws a latch that sits at eye level. Then she enters the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I hear water filling the tub. She can't possibly think she's bathing alone on our wedding night.

I pace outside the bathroom, unsure of what to do. Does she want time to herself? I'm still getting to know her, learning her moods and signals.

I turn the bathroom doorknob. It's unlocked.

"Join me?" Her hair is twisted up with a clip, and tendrils frame her face. The water is quickly rising, but her breasts are still exposed.

No need to ask twice. I undress as quickly as possible, and she scoots forward to make room for me.

"Mrs. Grey, please allow me to relieve your tension." I rub her shoulders and plant kisses on her neck. She giggles when I reach the sensitive spot behind her ear.

"Mmmm. That feels wonderful."

"I'm so sorry you had to see those photographs. Taylor is trying to figure out how and when Leila got into the apartment."

"You're absolutely certain it was Leila?"

"Yes. She was always sneaky. And all the photos were of her."

"We should've called the police. It's not too late."

"I don't like the police knowing my business—"

She cuts me off.

"I don't want anything to disturb our wedding night, but we need to get some things straight."

"Yes, ma'am." Bossy Ana has reared her head.

"Leila broke into your home—"

"Our home," I correct.

"Fine. If she breaks into our home again, I'm taking over. I'll handle everything, and I'll press charges for unlawful entry."

"Be my guest. I really like this side of you, this territorial, possessive thing is quite a turn on." I press my erection against Anastasia, but she's not yielding to me.

"How much of the furniture in your apartment did you actually choose?"

"The piano, the billiard table, and the art work."

"Those things stay. And the library. The rest of it needs to go."

"Mrs. Grey, I do like the way you're taking charge. It's very wifey."

"You don't mind me making so many changes?"

"If we're putting the apartment on the market, the place needs a facelift."

"You're okay with getting rid of your penthouse?"

"It needs to go. It reeks of Elena."

"And subs. I get upset thinking about all the things you did with them in all those rooms."

"It wasn't all the rooms." Only the kitchen, dining room, study, and red room. Shit, if I had to stay where Ana had done things with another man, I'd torch the place.

"Even one room is too many. And now Leila has breached the bedroom that was supposed to be our sanctuary. If the decorating goes well, we can live at Escala until we find a new place."

"Baby, you don't have to make more sacrifices than you already have. You don't need to spend one night at Escala. We can stay at the Fairmont for a while."

"We can do the hotel thing until the redecorating is done. Can you arrange to get the work done quickly?"

"I'm Christian Grey. I'm kind of a big deal." I snuggle against her neck.

"Is a week too soon?"

"A week should be plenty of time, unless you want walls moved."

"Did you fuck any subs against those walls?"

"Only the St. Andrew's wall in the playroom. And that's being removed as we speak."

"I got creepy feelings in the kitchen and in your study."

She was right to have those feelings. My girl has extraordinary intuition.

My phone pings. I step out of the tub to check it.

"Sorry, baby."

"And already it starts. Your phone holds more allure than I do."

It's a text from Olga Kelly.

"We got our house, and also the property on the north side. The current owners of the Lincoln house are holding out. The wife doesn't want to sell to a Grey. Seems she 'dated' Elliot and he disrespected her. Damned Elliot and his dick. I'll offer more money."

"You're already offering a million over market value. Offering more might insult her, making her think Greys just buy their way out of things. Let's move ahead with our plans. We can always make another offer at a later date."

"We can't live next door to that house of horrors."

"We won't. Everything will work out. I feel it. Now get back in this tub. I have a couple of spots in need of cleaning."

 **Monday, June 13, 2011**

 **Christian**

I wake and my wife isn't next to me.

I hear the tinkle of her laughter, and I think it's coming from the kitchen. Yes, that's coffee and bacon I smell.

She's with Kavanagh and that Mutt asshole. I'll show them how things are. Anastasia's back is to me. She looks delicious in those yoga pants and crop top. Is she not wearing a bra? I hate these two seeing her like this.

I raise my chin in greeting to the fuckers eyeballing my wife. I step behind Anastasia and slip my arms around her, holding her against me.

"Mr. Grey," she purrs. "Good morning, my darling."

"Good morning to you, Mrs. Grey." I turn her, so I can give her a proper kiss.

"Jesus, Ana, when I asked you out last year, you said you didn't date. I thought you were a lesbian or something. Now I see this." Shithead Mutt has been trying to get in Anastasia's pants.

"Mutt, when a woman says she doesn't date, she's just trying to let you down easy. What makes you think she'd be interested in a player like you?" I appreciate Kavanagh setting his friend straight.

"Hey, I know how to make a woman happy," Mutt counters. "What's up with you two calling each other mister and missus? Some kind of kinky role play?"

"They're in love, and married in spirit," Kavanagh answers, picking up his plate. "Let's leave them be and eat in front of the TV."

"It's a new work week. Don't they have jobs?" I whisper to my beautiful wife. "I'd like to make some noise with you."

"As much as I'd like that, we have appointments this morning. First, we eat."

As I tuck into my bacon and eggs, I'm thankful for a wife who keeps me fed in all ways. We sit side by side at the breakfast bar in silence and contentment, her left hand on my thigh. Kavanagh and his friend play some military themed video game, mere boys in grown bodies. They remind me of Elliot.

Over the din of their game, I suddenly hear pinging and ringing from the bedroom. My phone is blowing up and so is Anastasia's.

In unison we walk to the bedroom to check our phones..

"It's my mother." Anastasia's voice registers disappointment.

"And mine. I'll let it go to voice mail. I need to read these texts, before I get caught up in conversation."

Most of my texts are GEH related, but one is from a cousin asking if the party is a hoax. What an asshole. Is it really so out of character for me to throw a party?

I try to look busy, as I eavesdrop on Ana's conversation with her mother. Shit. I guess I have a mother-in-law now.

"Hi, Mom…Christian wanted to make sure you're included. It's a party to announce his latest merger…Yes, a big occasion. All of Christian's family will be there. And Daddy. You and Bob should come…I see…Hope things work out and you can make it…You too…Bye."

"Well?"

"I don't think she'll attend. If she does, it will be out of curiosity, to meet you and see what your family is like. I missed a call from Daddy."

"I need to speak to your father again soon, check in, make sure I stay in his good graces."

"Yes, take care of that. I need you all in one piece."

"Shower with me."

"Help me with the dishes, and it's a deal." Dishes are something I never thought I'd do, but Anastasia is the Tom Sawyer of domesticity. She makes every chore inviting.

XXXXXXX

We're in the elevator to the penthouse, when I get word from Andrea that the honeymoon has been arranged.

"Ready to leave for Maui this afternoon?"

"I haven't packed."

"There's time to throw a few things in a bag. Or we can shop after we arrive."

"Everything moves at warp speed with you. Sometimes it's difficult to keep up."

"You keep up just fine, Mrs. Grey."

I bring her hands to my face and kiss her palms. God, I love this woman.

When we get off the elevator, Mrs. Jones is serving iced tea to a blonde.

"Christian Grey," I say, and extend my hand.

"Amanda Lennox. It's a pleasure to meet you." She tries to hold my gaze, but I look away. She turns to Anastasia. "And you must be Andrea."

"No, not Andrea," I tell her. "Did you sign the NDA?"

"Of course."

"Anastasia, meet the decorator, Miss Lennox. Miss Lennox, meet my wife, Anastasia Grey."

"Wife?" Miss Lennox chokes on the word.

"Yes. As incredible as it may seem, this beautiful woman agreed to marry me and bear my children. We're celebrating our first anniversary. We've been married for one whole day."

Just as Anastasia did last night in front of Kavanagh and his friends, I hold up her left hand and mine, showing off our matching bands.

"I wish you every happiness." Miss Lennox regains her composure, displaying a professional demeanor. "Andrea didn't tell me much, just that you've a project in need of quick completion."

"We're moving, putting this place on the market, and we'd like it completely redone, top to bottom in five days. If you get the job, you may begin tomorrow. Our staff is clearing away all personal items and putting them in temporary storage. Everything goes except artwork, the piano, and the billiards table. Leave the library alone, but change out all the other rooms."

"Do you want the bathroom fixtures changed as well? And how about kitchen appliances?"

"The bathroom fixtures can stay, but I'd like the kitchen completely redone," Anastasia answers.

"Five days...I'll have to bring in a lot of help."

"Of course, but go through my security first. Every worker must be vetted."

"Any ideas as to what you'd like? I brought my portfolio to show my work on properties similar to yours." Miss Lennox looks to me. I need to set her straight.

"My wife is the potential client. If you want the job, you must appeal to her."

Miss Lennox very wisely zeroes in on Anastasia.

"Mrs. Grey, what did you envision for the space?"

"My preferences lean toward Pottery Barn." My girl giggles, and Miss Lennox joins in. I'm completely in the dark here.

"What's Pottery Barn?" I ask.

"It's a chain store," my wife explains. "Not your thing."

"There's one at University Village. And another in Bellevue," Miss Lennox adds.

"You like this pottery place?"

If that's what my baby wants, that's what she shall have.

"Yes."

"Then order everything from there. You should have what you want."

"Maybe we can get a few things there for the new house. But this apartment needs upscale furnishings and clean lines, especially since we're putting it on the market. I love you for always wanting to indulge me."

I can't resist leaning over to kiss my wife.

Miss Lennox clears her throat.

"Mrs. Grey, it helps that you've shared your fondness for Pottery Barn. I have some ideas that will brighten things up. I'd like to bring in a few traditional elements, and I suggest changing this paint color to a warmer shade of gray."

I like that idea. With Anastasia by my side, I'm definitely a warmer shade of Grey.

As much as I'd like to stay here next to my wife, I have loose ends to tie up before we can leave town.

"Are you two set? I need to make some calls."

"We'll be fine," my beauty answers. I steal another kiss.

My study has already been cleared out. Files are boxed up. Desk drawers are empty. I look down at the space under my desk where subs had huddled, hands restrained, blindfolded, sucking me off. Did any of that feel good? Did anything really feel good before Anastasia?

I find Ros in my contacts and hit 'send.'

She answers the phone with a cough. I do wish she'd give up smoking.

"Hey, big guy. What's up? I thought you were coming in today."

"I was. But then I decided to get married."

"You're shitting me, right?"

"No."

"You're getting hitched?"

"Anastasia and I eloped to Montana yesterday. We're husband and wife."

"Damn, Grey. When you've wanted something, you've always moved fast. But this takes things to a whole new level."

"We're leaving this afternoon for our honeymoon in Maui. You and I have hashed and rehashed everything coming up in the near future, so I leave GEH in your capable hands."

"I'm happy for you. Maybe you'll be using your sperm after all." Ros lets loose the husky laugh she's so famous for.

Little does she know, my sperm have already been busy.

"Ros, I have something important to ask you, and I don't want you to feel any obligation."

"Of course."

I'm new to this friendship game. I hope Ros understands what she means to me.

"Did you receive the party invitation?"

"Yes, about that…what deal are we celebrating? Olivia asked. She's pissed by the way, at not being invited."

"The party is actually a wedding celebration. Top secret. I wonder if you might do me the honor of standing up with me as Anastasia and I exchange public vows. I've asked my three closest friends, Elliot, Mia, and you."

"Christian," Ros gasps in shock. "Thank you. I'm honored."

"Thank you, Ros. Since we'll be out of town, Mia will contact you about fittings. The dresses will come from Dana Kavanagh. This is a rushed affair, so we're still working out the details. If you have questions, text me."

"I'll do anything to avoid interrupting your honeymoon. I need you back here, happy and rested. Please pass on my best wishes to Ana."

After hanging up, I reflect on my good fortune. I may have been dealt a shit hand at birth, but the river handed me a royal flush.

I savor this new feeling.

Winning at life.

I tiptoe back to the great room to listen in on Anastasia's meeting.

"Yes, that deep red shade is exactly what I want for the billiards room. Let's proceed with your plan. I'm anxious to see what you can do. We just purchased a home on Lake Washington, and if you do well with this place, we'll certainly consider you for future work. E-mail me with any issues."

"Thank you for this opportunity, Mrs. Grey. I'll see myself out."

As soon as I hear the elevator close, I reveal myself, and give my bride a round of applause.

"Well done, Mrs. Grey. Friendly, but firm and authoritative."

"Thank you, Mr. Grey. I'm taking lessons from the best."

I push my wife down on the sofa, and pepper her neck and face with kisses. This could turn into something, and we need to leave for the airport soon.

"Relax and enjoy this, baby. I'm learning to read your mind, and let me put it at ease. I have never been on this sofa with any woman other than you."

"Hmm, you are developing psychic powers. Since this sofa is about to become history, let's get dirty all over it." Anastasia reaches around and grips my buttocks. Her tongue does a brief dance with mine.

"That sounds like a plan. I can't wait to be inside you. Don't ever stop touching me."

As Anastasia's hands roam my body, I send a quick text to Taylor to turn off the cameras and exit the apartment. Then I proceed to get thoroughly lost in my wife and her hot little curves.

 **Wednesday, June 16, 2011**

 **Christian**

I pick up Anastasia's phone, and swipe through her pictures. I stop at the selfie she took when I carried her across the threshold of our hotel room. My God. She is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Who'd have thought it? Just six weeks ago, I was contemplating my next move in getting a sub. Here I am stretched out on a Maui beach with my gorgeous bikini clad wife.

We're honeymooners.

I can't remember when I've ever felt like this. I fix the moment in my mind, trying to freeze time, wanting to capture it forever and ever.

I've never been one to care about documenting moments in time, and certainly not with photographs. But all I want to do is snap pictures. Taylor and Sawyer told me to relax, that they'd take plenty of pictures.

When we get home I need to figure out a way to display all of them. We're making so many memories here.

There's an image of my wife in a wetsuit too big for her frame, snorkeling. Anastasia all lit up with a smile while zip-lining. Riding horses on the beach. Exploring tidal pools, and Anastasia's wide-eyed expression as she holds a sea cucumber, telling me "this thing definitely reminds me of you." The two of us pulled out of the audience to take a hula lesson during the entertainment segment of the hotel luau.

So many wondrous images.

My life has recently become rich and full, and all because of her. I had so much, but I had no one with whom to share it. I've no desire to look back or have too many regrets for the empty way I used to live. I must choose to focus on the here and now. My past was preparation for this new life with Anastasia.

"Is anything wrong?" My wife looks down at herself, checking the thin strands holding the bikini onto her body. "You're looking at me funny."

"I'm admiring you, wondering how you can love me."

"You're easy to love, and you love me so well. You're good at so many things, but you're best at loving." We are turned on our beach mats, face to face, as close as we can be without touching. "I want to kiss you right now, Mr. Grey. But if I do, it will turn into something we could be arrested for."

"Shall we return to our room?" I hope she says yes.

"In a bit. I'm hungry for lunch. The early breakfast and zip-lining have left me famished. How about I find that food truck we saw up the beach?"

"Fine, but put on that lace cover-up thing. And take Sawyer."

She rolls her eyes and giggles.

"Always so worried about someone seeing the goods. Lucky for you, I have a strong sense of modesty."

"Lucky for me, you are lots of wonderful things which suit my nature." I give her a playful slap on the ass. Luke has been watching and he catches up with her as she departs.

I want to sneak a peek at my e-mail and check the markets, but Anastasia took her phone, and she gave mine to Taylor to babysit. I've been trying to stay away from media and all things GEH. I allow myself one hour in the morning and one hour in the late afternoon. Anastasia times me, and tells me when to step away from the electronics.

I look around and see several families. Before Anastasia, I never gave a thought to the people around me. I wonder what kind of vacations Anastasia and I will take with our children. I suddenly feel a pang of sympathy for people who must travel commercially with kids. It must be a nightmare.

A beach ball hits me square in the head. It's startling. When I look for the source, I find two small tow-headed children standing behind me. There's a boy and a girl, similar in appearance, size, and age.

"Thanks for the gift. I've always wanted one of these."

"We were just playing. Please, mister, give it back," the boy implores.

"If you wanted it back, maybe you shouldn't have hit me in the head."

"It was an accident. We're sorry," the girl says.

"Apology accepted."

I throw the ball back to them, and the boy catches it.

He holds the ball above his head and throws it back to me, putting much effort into it. I catch it, and throw it to the girl. Before I know it, I'm engaged in some sort of game with the two children.

"There you are. Didn't I tell you to stay put?" A woman in a big hat approaches. Must be their mother.

"Dad said we could run off and play."

"Did he?" Mom seems skeptical.

I throw the ball one last time.

"Bye, mister," the boy says. The little girl waves a shy goodbye.

"Nice children you have," I offer. I'm terrible at small talk.

"Thanks. They are rather sweet, though it's not easy having two sets of twins. You met my older pair."

"Two sets of twins. Just the thought is overwhelming."

"Do you have little ones?"

"Not yet, but we're hoping for some. My wife and I are newlyweds. This is our honeymoon."

"You have a way with kids. I'm sure you'll be a good dad."

All I did was throw a ball around, and this woman thinks I'm father material. I want to believe she's correct, but there just isn't enough evidence.

"How can you tell?" I can't believe I'm asking a perfect stranger for her personal insight.

"Well, you were patient with my kids, and didn't get upset when they were bothering you. And I've been watching you with your wife for the past hour. Please don't take this the wrong way, but you two are too attractive not to notice. You don't take your eyes off her, and the adoration in your gaze…is really something. If you can maintain that kind of connection with your wife, it will set a good example for your children."

"And those things tell you I can be a good father?"

"Sure. You'll be fine."

"Thanks."

"Enjoy your honeymoon."

I'm left with a feeling of relief. Anastasia affirms me constantly, telling me what a wonderful dad I'll be. But she loves me, so she has to say that. To have a stranger see something in me, something I can't see in myself, is reassuring.

I'm beginning to believe I have something beyond material goods to offer a child. I can't wait to do all the outdoorsy shit that Dad did with Elliot and me. I fantasize about taking our child up in Charlie Tango and out on the water in The Grace. But first I need to do all those things with Anastasia. We need to savor every moment alone before our baby arrives.

My wife returns with cheeseburgers. Not the healthiest choice, and as soon as I open my mouth, I'm sorry.

"Was there nothing else you could have ordered? Salad, grilled fish?"

"Mr. Finicky, you choose next time. Unless we both go, we'll learn to live with whatever the other chooses."

"It's because I care about you and our baby."

"I know, but when you question what I put in my body, you make me feel like a bad mother, like I'm harming our child."

"I'm sorry. You're a wonderful mother. I suppose one cheeseburger won't hurt either of you."

"You're such a reasonable man. I'm so happy I found you." I'm rewarded with a soft kiss.

"Did you find me or did I find you?"

"I think Elliot found me and foisted me upon you, so he could get to Kate."

"Nice move on his part. I must remember to thank him for his self-serving attitude."

"I miss them, don't you?"

"Only when I think of them, which is never. All my thoughts center on you." Who wants a cheeseburger, when there's something tastier right in front of me?

"It's been a perfect honeymoon so far, hasn't it?"

"Perfect."

I punctuate my answer with a long, deep kiss.

Absolutely perfect.


	26. The Honeymoon Birthday

**Many thanks to the friends (you know who you are) who talked me out of taking this chapter in a dark direction. I'm the lucky one to have you all in my life. This one is for you.**

 **XXXXXXX**

 **The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 26**

 **The Honeymoon Birthday**

 **Saturday, June 18, 2011**

 **Christian**

A refreshing Maui breeze hits me as I open the door to our room. We've enjoyed leaving the balcony doors open during our stay.

"Polyamory…I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Sure, bring Marisol as your plus one. I'm glad you and Ethan already have the tuxes squared away. Mia really is on top of things."

I try to enter quietly when I hear Anastasia on the phone. She was asleep when I left with Sawyer for a five-mile run. I picked up takeout breakfast on the way back.

"Who is it?" I whisper, pointing at the phone.

"José," she mouths back to me.

I roll my eyes at my beautiful wife, and she gives me a crooked smile. I've made peace with José, but I still don't like him.

"We'll be home soon. Give my best to your...um, harem. Laters."

As she puts her phone down on the nightstand, I hand her a cup of orange juice. She takes two sips and licks her lips.

Sexy as hell.

"Harem? What's that about?" I try to imagine Rodriguez with a bevy of women. The idea is ludicrous, and I stifle a laugh.

"Not a harem really. Technically, I suppose it's a triad. José, Becca, and Marisol have decided to enter a relationship. José wanted to make sure he could bring both of his significant others. Becca was already on the guest list, so now I've added Marisol."

"He can have that shit. I'm a one-woman man. For life, baby." I take away her juice and push her down on the bed. "Even with bed head and sleep in your eyes, you are breathtaking."

About three deep kisses in, just as things are getting heated up, Ana's phone starts ringing.

"That's my work ringtone. I need to take it," she says.

I let out an impatient huff, and Ana giggles as she reaches for her phone. I decide to unpack our breakfast. We should eat before the food gets cold.

"Hi, Elizabeth. Thanks so much for returning my call. I've completed all the manuscripts you sent me. Did you receive the files?...Excellent. I'm calling to let you know my circumstances have changed. I'm afraid I won't be able to take on any more work for SIP. My job at Kavanagh Media is more than enough, and I just can't handle any more. Thank you so much for the opportunity you've given me…You too, Elizabeth. It's been wonderful working with you. Thank you…Goodbye."

She's quitting her part-time gig with SIP. I'm pleased, and more than a little bit surprised.

"You never said a word. What made you quit?"

"I woke up this morning, and you weren't here. I started thinking how precious every moment is between us, how important it is that time be well spent. I want a fulfilling career, but I also want time for you and our children. Publishing just isn't for me, I've decided. I prefer the team atmosphere at KKAV. No two days are ever the same there, and I see an opportunity for part-time work after the baby comes. For years I dreamed of working in the publishing industry, but I've decided to let go of that and pursue media. My Kavanaghs have been so good to me, in so many ways, and it makes me happy to give my efforts to them."

"Thank fuck you've quit SIP." I pull out my phone to send a text to Ros. "Now I don't have to buy that ill-managed shit fest. I give that place a year, two tops, before it goes under."

Anastasia's mouth is agape, and her brow is furrowed in bewilderment.

"You were planning to purchase SIP? Perhaps I shouldn't be, but I'm shocked."

"I'll always try to maintain your safety, and one way to do that is to control your environment. With the baby coming, I now have two loved ones to protect."

I pop a small bit of bacon in her mouth, and give her a lingering kiss.

"I know where this is headed, Mr. Grey, and I'm all for it, but let's eat breakfast first. I have something I want to give you." She reaches into the nightstand drawer and pulls out three boxes. The larger two look like they might be books. The third is a tiny package wrapped in Tiffany blue. She holds the packages out. "Happy birthday, darling."

She's caught me off guard.

"Oh, yeah, I guess it is my birthday, or at least what I've always thought was my birthday." I sit down next to her on the edge of the bed. I feel forlorn and lost, thinking about my birth certificate and my conversation with Dad.

"Oh, I wish you could be happy about your birthday. I thank God every day that you were born. You're mine and you're everything to me." Anastasia kisses my neck. I offer my lips and she takes them, holding my face in her hands. "The eighteenth of June is your day. Claim it, so all the people who love you will have a special day to show their affection."

Trying my best, I offer her a smile.

"Okay, but only for you."

"I love you, my darling man. Now open the boxes." She pushes the smallest box into my hands. "You must get used to surprises, because I plan to give you a lifetime filled with them."

"Thank you, baby."

The tiny tag attached to the Tiffany box says, " _Forever and always, your Ana._ "

I kiss her lightly on the forehead, and tear away the paper, never taking my eyes off her. And for the first time in my life, I feel a bit excited to receive gifts. Ana makes me feel like I deserve to be celebrated.

"Yes, you are _my_ Ana, and don't ever forget it."

"You're difficult to buy for, because you already have everything. But I saw these and thought you could wear them at our reception. I want something that marks you as mine."

She's given me a pair of gold cufflinks. One cufflink says "I" and the other says "do." Her possessive gesture feels nice. I am hers.

"I like your territorial ways, Mrs. Grey. I do. I do. I do." I pull her to me and pepper her face and neck with kisses. "I love you forever and always. Let's leave the polyamory to lightweights like Rodriguez. Monogamy is the only way to go."

I push her down on the bed, kiss her neck, and find the sensitive spot behind her ears. She giggles in response.

"Your morning scruff tickles," she giggles.

"You like that, don't you?" I nibble at her neck.

"Yes, very much. But could we eat first? I need something in my stomach, so I can take those prenatal vitamins."

"Of course, baby." We move to the small table for two. I present Ana with a large cup of tea, and a breakfast of scrambled eggs, fruit, and croissant. "Oh, the vitamins remind me. I took the liberty of making an appointment with a new obstetrician."

"Always so organized, and always one step ahead of me," she teases. "So who's our new doctor?"

"Jennifer Monroe. She's in an all-female practice. I selected her for three reasons. One, she's female, as are all of her partners, so no danger of another man touching you. Two, she's a happily married lesbian, so she won't be hitting on me or you. And three, Ros and Gwen highly recommended her."

I find Anastasia's bag on the floor. I swear she has everything but the kitchen sink in there. I dump the contents out onto the bed to find the prenatal vitamins.

"Thank you for finding another doctor. You saved me a lot of trouble. I kinda enjoy having a control freak for a husband."

"Control freak? Nope, I'm just a man who likes to take care of his family. Hold out your hand." I shake one of the capsules into her palm. She swallows it with a swig of juice.

"You take care of us so well. I hope you know how much I appreciate it." She puts a hand to her still flat belly.

"Well, it's mutual. That's what marriage is, right? We take care of each other."

Anastasia gives me an affirmative nod and a broad smile.

"I plan to take very good care of you, my birthday boy, especially today. I think it's an unwritten rule you get to have as much sex as you want on your birthday, however you like it. You haven't opened your other gifts yet."

"Maybe I do like birthdays after all. I'll open my gifts while I watch you eat."

The other two gifts are exactly the same size and shape. Anastasia watches in amusement as I rip away the paper.

"What's this?" It's a book, with the title embossed on the cover: _How We Fell in Love_.

"It's a book, an album printed with all the photos from our first days together in Montana. The other gift is an album of our wedding day in Montana. I put together all the photos from everyone's cameras, including yours. A really sweet guy named Barney helped me bust into your phone."

I can't believe what I've just heard. My initial reaction is a negative one. I'm shocked by Anastasia's bold invasion of my privacy. I'm also shocked that Barney would risk his employment by breaking into my phone and giving the contents to Anastasia.

 _How does it feel, Grey, to be on the receiving end?_ _Anastasia is your wife. No secrets, remember?_

"Barney, eh?"

"I asked Sawyer how I could get pictures without you knowing, and he said Barney could easily access your phone. Sawyer made it sound like it was something Barney did all the time. Is that true?"

"Yes, Barney is quite accomplished at capturing information." I think of all the times I've asked Barney to dig around in other people's business. I'm ashamed of myself.

"You don't look very happy. I would never break into any other person's phone, but we're married, and we've agreed there are no secrets between us. You told me I own the business too, so I thought it was okay to ask an employee to get the information I needed. I wanted to surprise you."

"This marriage thing is new to me. You taking those photos is no different from us syncing our calendars. I need to remember I'm not alone anymore. How about I give you access to all my passwords and accounts?"

"And I'll do the same." My beautiful wife's baby blues shine with love and sincerity. "By the way, I was surprised at some of the photos…you took them without my knowledge."

Ana blushes. It's so damned cute.

"Did the images upset you?" The photos were intimate, but not blackmail material. I would never put anything compromising on my phone.

"No. I'm flattered you want me in your phone to look at whenever you get a hankering."

"A hankering? Oh, baby, you don't know the half of it." She has no idea of the depth of my obsession for her. "Let's eat breakfast and look at the albums. The gifts are perfect, baby. You put a great deal of thought into them. Best. Birthday. Ever."

 **Anastasia**

Our honeymoon has been perfection. I've had the time of my life. It started with Christian carrying me over the threshold as we entered the plane, and again as we entered our hotel room. We've spent our days at a languid pace, though it's amazing all the things we've done. Every day with Christian is a new adventure.

Yesterday I snorkeled for the first time, when we took a charter cruise with a small group of strangers. Christian thought he'd hate it, but he actually ended up enjoying himself. No one seemed to recognize him, and when people learned we're honeymooners, they were very congratulatory. Christian actually chatted up members of the group, and appeared quite relaxed. The boat anchored in a beautiful cove. Bedecked in masks, snorkels, and wetsuits, we admired an enormous black octopus, from a distance of course. We observed schools of brightly colored tropical fish, and best of all, I had lots of fun touching my husband underwater.

In honor of my darling husband's birthday, today I've planned a special luncheon for two on a deserted island. I've hired a sportfishing boat, and arranged for a picnic hamper along with plenty of privacy.

"Deep sea fishing doesn't seem like an activity you'd choose," Christian says, "but I'm down for whatever you have planned."

"I'm so happy you're pleased," I tell him, pressing into his side. I'm as close to my husband as I dare. We have Sawyer and Taylor with us, along with two crew members who are taking us to our destination. "Look off to your right."

"I see an island," he says.

"That's not just any island. We've rented it. For four hours we'll have the run of an uninhabited island. Taylor and Sawyer will stay on the boat. Just you and me." I bat my eyelashes and kiss his stubbly chin.

"I love it. And I love you. This day just gets better and better," he says, pulling my back to his front and wrapping his strong arms around me as we anticipate the arrival to our private island.

The boat captain drops us at a white sandy beach. It's eleven a.m.

"Three o'clock, Taylor," I instruct. "And please remember what we discussed." I've asked Taylor to make anchor on the other side of the island, so my husband and I can have complete privacy.

"Yes, ma'am. Of course." Taylor nods and carries the picnic hamper and beach mats ashore. Sawyer carries a cooler filled with juice and water, and my large tote, which is stuffed to the max with beach towels and sunscreen.

Christian sweeps me into his arms and carries me ashore. He continues to make me feel like a new bride. It's very sweet.

As the fishing boat pulls away, we survey our private island. The island is thick with vegetation, so there's plenty of shade. About fifty feet away, there's a small grass-roofed shack for covered shelter, if we need it. There are hills for climbing, though I can't imagine we'll get up to any of that today.

"Hey, why is the boat rounding the island? Where are they going?" Christian seems concerned.

"I asked the guys to anchor offshore on the other side. I wanna get naked with you."

His eyes go wide at the realization of what I've said.

"Let's go, baby." Christian kicks off his flip-flops, and quickly peels off his shirt and swim trunks.

"My birthday boy is eager. I like it." I stand back to admire my husband's strong, lean physique.

"Let me do the honors," he says, pulling my cover-up over my head, and undoing my bikini ties. "We're going to need lots of sunscreen."

"True. I don't want that magic cock of yours getting burned." I dig for the sunscreen while Christian moves our supplies to a shady area, and spreads out two large straw beach mats.

"Baby, that's not magic. It's skill. Ladies first," he says, slathering me with sun lotion, making certain his hands find their way onto every square inch of my body.

When it's my turn to apply lotion, I decide a full-body massage is in order.

"Face down, Mr. Grey."

I start at his feet and work my way up. Christian moans and groans in pleasure.

"This is my first massage. I hope it won't be my last," he murmurs, the appreciation evident in his voice. "Jesus, baby. There's nothing like this. Have you done this before?"

"No, but I learned a thing or two from Jean-Paul." I paid attention, and I also watched YouTube videos on massage instruction.

"Shit. I remember. That masseur at the airport. I'm sure I could do a better job than that fucker."

"Turn over. It's time for your front…I don't know if you can do a better job than Jean-Paul," I giggle at my husband's jealous, competitive nature. "He was licensed, experienced, and had special training."

"I don't have a license, but I am specially trained and experienced. I'm sure I can surpass Jean-Paul."

I'm not surprised by what he's telling me, but the realization gives me pause. I pull my hands away from the top of his feet.

"What's wrong?"

"You've given other women massages, but you've never given me one, unless you count foot massages. I understand you had unique experiences with other women, but I don't need it thrown in my face."

"I'm sorry, baby. I wasn't thinking. Elena trained me in massage. It was part of my submission. And as a Dom, I provided massage as after care. Only a few times, when the sub had been tied up or cuffed in an awkward position for a long period of time."

"I'm sorry, but I get so jealous when I think about it."

"They meant nothing. You know that."

"Intellectually I do know that. But I'm just insecure enough to not fully accept it on an emotional level. Will we always need reassurance from one another? I hope one day we'll feel completely secure in what we share."

"Come here." Christian beckons me to lie down next to him. I curl up into his side. "I don't know what the future holds for us, but I do know that you are it for me. We can get through anything, if we stay focused on what we have. Giving you a massage will be a first for me, because it will be the first time I've done it with love. Everything with you has been a first, baby, because I adore you."

Christian pulls my face to his, and a quick peck turns into more. And soon we are side by side, making out like teenagers, grinding against one another, hands moving over sunscreen-greasy flesh. Christian lays kisses down my neck and chest, then turns his attention to my achy, tender breasts.

"Baby, your areolas are getting darker. And the veins on your tits stand out against your skin." He runs a finger along a vein, then pinches my overly sensitive nipples. He's a bit rough and it feels surprisingly good.

"Ahhh, don't stop. It's a nice hurt."

A balmy breeze sweeps over us, as the sun peeks through the trees. Next to us is a shrub with tiny green flowers that give off a woodsy, spicy fragrance.

I take deep breaths of ocean air. There's nothing like the scent of the sea, mostly salty, but slightly fishy and tangy. This is different from the Pacific Northwest coast, which has its own unique fragrance, mingling forest and sea.

I've never been naked outdoors before, and all my senses are heightened.

"Your mention of 'a nice hurt' reminds me. Do you need spanking?"

"Yes, but maybe you do, too. How about a birthday spanking?" I tease, knowing my husband has no interest in being on the receiving end of any kind of punishment.

"In tribute, I think you should take my birthday spanking. Tell me. How do birthday spankings work?"

"One lick for each year of life, and then one to grow on."

"Oh, baby, I'm already grown." Christian points at his erection. "I think twenty-eight strikes should be enough."

Twenty-eight seems like a lot, but I trust my husband won't give me more than I can bear.

"Whatever my birthday boy wants. After all, I am a naughty girl."

Christian sits up and pulls me across his lap. The first twenty 'strikes' are nothing more than firm taps, alternating between cheeks. The remaining eight leave me smarting a bit. I know my bottom must be pink.

"It's my birthday. I want you on top, riding my cock, while I play with your luscious tits."

There's a tiny gecko watching us from a nearby dried palm frond. The voyeur is soon joined by two friends. I point and Christian sees them too.

"I'm not sure they like us invading their island," I say.

"Let's give them something to look at, baby." Christian tweaks my nipple and gives his cock a couple of strokes.

I straddle and mount my gorgeous husband, moving slowly up and down. There's something freeing about being naked in the open air in the middle of the day. I feel savage, wild, wanton.

It's hard to believe that mere weeks ago, Christian couldn't tolerate touch. He tells me again and again how much he craves my touch. It's a good thing, because I can't keep my hands to myself. My fingers skim the slopes of his shoulders, the mounds of his pecs, and end up resting on his washboard abs. My man is so beautiful.

His eyes are closed, and his fingers grip my hips in a most delicious way. I lean forward to get more pelvic traction, and as I lower myself, his mouth finds a breast. As my pleasure builds, my movements become smaller.

"Yes, baby, that's it. Come for me," he commands. "You're so close."

I cover his mouth with mine, and he responds, mimicking the motion of our thrusts with his tongue. My release comes in glorious waves, and I'm left dizzy and limp, in a slackened heap on top of my man.

"Ana…baby…are you okay?"

"Yes," I rasp.

"It was good for me too. Damn, that was great," he laughs.

"I feel selfish. I was so into my own gratification, that I had no idea you came too."

"Your pleasure fueled mine. That was spectacular." Christian always tells me our sex is fantastic. I hope that's true, but sometimes I wonder if he's just saying that to make me feel good. "Feel like a swim?"

"Yes, another first for me. I've never skinny-dipped before."

"Neither have I." Christian winks at me and stands up. "I'll race you, give you a five second head start."

Christian pulls me to my feet, and I take off running. The water is cold, and I miss having a wetsuit. The surf is rough, and when I reach chest-high water I feel Christian's arms pull my back to his front.

"Your teeth are chattering," he says. "Let's go back."

"Maybe I'll warm up." I don't want to be a wuss, and give up on the opportunity to be naked in the water with my husband.

"No, it's too cold. Let's go back and dry off in the sun." Christian pulls me through the waves. When we reach our spot, he uses one of our towels to dry me, blotting off the water with the tenderness one might reserve for a small child.

"It's your birthday. Allow me," I say. I find a fresh, dry towel and lavish Christian with the same care in which he attended me. "How about a naked lunch?"

"I'm starving. And what did you order up for my birthday lunch?"

"We're eating like locals today…a traditional Hawaiian plate lunch. Beef or chicken? I'll take the one you don't want."

I pull the insulated containers out of the picnic hamper. Good, they're still warm.

"Beef, I think." Christian sits, legs folded criss-cross applesauce style. The position puts his dick on center stage. Even flaccid, it's long and thick. Sometimes I can't believe he puts that beast inside me.

"Beef teriyaki for you, along with white rice and macaroni salad. I also ordered up side servings of the seaweed salad we like so much."

I spread a napkin over his lap, using the opportunity to brush against his cock.

"Damn, woman. You don't give me any rest, and I love you for it." He pulls my lips to his. "Laters."

I hand him the plate and utensils, along with a cold bottle of mango-guava nectar.

I watch his Adam's apple bobble as he gulps down some of the juice. He's so sexy.

"How is it?"

"Good, baby. What are you drinking?"

"Something called lilikoi punch." I take a sip. "I like it. Here, have some."

We taste each other's food and drink, while discussing all the things we plan to do next time we visit Maui.

"We must thank Mia for unintentionally planning our honeymoon," I say. "Do you think she knew we'd end up together when she put together the prize in Montana?"

"No, but she probably wished it. My baby sister adores you. Actually my whole family does."

"What do you think Carrick will say when he hears we're married?" I've been a bit apprehensive about his reaction to our announcement.

"We had a session with Flynn, and Dad assured me he respects my decisions. I expect him to shake my hand and congratulate me."

"I didn't know you two had a session with Flynn. When did this happen?"

"When you and I were apart, before your graduation. It was Flynn's idea. I was skeptical, but it turned out to be a very beneficial session."

"That makes me happy. I don't ever want to be a cause of friction between you and your family. I'm inviting my dad to come up to Seattle for lunch the day of the reception. I want him there a few hours early, so the two of you will have time to talk."

"Jesus, sounds like you expect him to have a problem with us being married." Christian pulls at his hair. I don't want him fretting over it, but Dad doesn't like surprises.

"I dunno. It could go either way. In the meantime, please don't worry." Christian nods and releases his hair, but his brow is still furrowed. I know Christian's going to fret over Dad's reaction, but we're married, and like it or not, Dad will adjust to the facts as they are.

I gather up all our trash and dirty dishes, and pack them up.

After two games of hide and seek, some oral gratification, and another quick ocean dip, it's time to get dressed. There's never enough time with my man.

 **CHRISTIAN**

As the boat slowly approaches our island spot, Taylor and Sawyer look grim. Both are on their phones. Instead of the two of them getting off the boat to help us, the boat captain and his mate assist us.

"Sir," Taylor hands me his phone. "Gail is on the line and needs to speak to you. I have her on speaker, so all of us can listen." I can see from his face that Gail has bad news. Perhaps the remodel is not what we hoped, and we'll need to move to the Fairmont tomorrow.

"Gail," I say. "Anastasia and I are both here. What's happening?"

"Sir, I've been gone to my sister's during the remodel and just returned. Your brother called to let me know the job was complete. Everything looks good, but when I checked out the kitchen, I found a…problem. There's a dead kitten, a tiny grey kitten, in the refrigerator." Gail begins to weep.

Ana gasps, and tears spring to her eyes.

"What the fuck? Does Elliot know?"

"Reynolds called your brother, who called the appliance store. The fridge was delivered first thing this morning before I arrived. Your brother signed for it. The CCTV was turned off in the apartment. The only evidence is the kitten. And a note. Reynolds is downstairs checking the lobby and garage footage."

"What kind of note? What does it say?"

"It's a folded piece of notebook paper. It says, ' _Sir, if you give her more, so can I_.' I sent photos to Jason. How do you want us to proceed?"

I look to Ana. Her lips are pursed and she's holding back tears.

"Goddamn Leila. Don't touch anything. Call the authorities. File a police report. And check into the Fairmont. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

I pass the phone back to Taylor.

"I'll call you tonight, honey," he tells Gail. "I love you, too."

"Leila Fucking Williams," I tell him.

"Yes, sir. I agree she's the most likely culprit. Thank you for allowing Gail to call the police."

Ana gives me an I-told-you-so look. I pull her into my arms and hold on tight.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," I promise.

XXXXXXX

We do our best not to think of Gail's call, but it nags at both of us.

"I don't want to think about some loon having the run of Escala," Ana says. "If someone was trying to scare me, it worked. I don't want to go home to Seattle."

"Baby, let's try to stay in the moment with each other. This is the last night of our honeymoon. I'm fucking pissed at Leila, and I don't like her having the power to spoil our special time." I try to reassure her, rubbing her lower back as we walk to the restaurant.

She's made dinner reservations at Lahaina Grill, and there's a table for two in a dark corner just for us.

"The escargot sounds like a good idea. What do you think?"

"I've never had escargot before."

"That's it then. It's my birthday, and I want to introduce my wife to something new."

I decide to capture her first taste of snails on video. She shows no trepidation, as she digs into the shell with her cocktail fork.

"Mmmm, oh dear heavens, this is delicious." She uses a small piece of crusty bread to sop up the garlic-parsley butter.

"My God. You are so sexy when you eat." I don't want to show this video to anyone. The sight of her tongue against her upper lip is enough to make me hard.

"When I eat food? Or you?" She teases.

"Both. But I think you know which I like best." I take her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles.

"I need to learn how to prepare this for us at home."

"I'm a fortunate man to have a bride who likes to cook."

"Oh, my darling, I'm the fortunate one. I'm imagining big holiday dinners."

"I hope our children aren't picky eaters." The thought makes me frown. It will drive me nuts if they don't eat.

"Don't worry so much. My appetite has been through the roof so far. This one likes to eat."

"That's heartening. Baby…" Something has been weighing on my mind.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure it's a girl? Last night I dreamed of a boy."

"I'm not sure about anything. A mother is supposed to have intuition about that, I think, but I waffle back and forth over it."

"Have you thought about names? If it's a boy, I'd like to name him after Grandfather Trevelyan."

"Theodore," she says it aloud, trying out the name. "Theo. Ted. Teddy. I do like it. What about for a girl?"

"How about Phoebe? Or Julia?"

"You've clearly been giving this some thought." I wince at her implication. She believes these might be names of former subs.

"I know what you're thinking. I've never been with anyone bearing either of those names. I like them because they're feminine and old-fashioned. They sound like they came from one of your British novels."

"Those are both lovely names, but I like the idea of naming our children after people or places that hold meaning for us. How about Katherine, Grace, or Margaret?"

"That sounds good…then how about Montana for a boy? Baby, Montana holds a special spot for us." She doesn't know I've been on the phone with a realtor in Montana. I'm looking for land near my parents' house, so we can build our own home there.

"I agree to that. It's a fine name for a boy or a girl. But I like your idea for our first boy to be Theodore."

"Let's seal that with a kiss," I say.

"No, sir. Not until I feed you one of these escargot. If we're going to seal the deal with a kiss, it's only fair that both of us taste like garlic." I close my eyes as I receive a bite of buttery escargot.

"Damn, that's good. But never as good as you, baby."

My mouth captures hers. I flick my tongue against the roof of her mouth, and I must practice restraint before our PDA becomes indecent.

"You're a master at stoking the fire between us," she whispers. "If we can keep the flame lit, we can weather anything, even crazy ex-subs."

XXXXXXX

When we arrive back at the resort, I ask Ana to take a walk with me. The grounds are peppered with exotic blooms and the scent is heavenly. The blossoms of Plumeria Point are Ana's favorite, and this place has become "our" spot. When I take her hand, she knows where I'm leading her.

Plumeria Point is the highest spot on the grounds of the resort. I sit on the step of the stone altar where so many couples have exchanged wedding vows. I pull Ana down onto my lap.

"Breathe in that perfume, baby."

"You really know how to show a girl a good time. Thank you for this honeymoon. It's been perfect."

"It really has been perfection. And it's you who has shown me a good time. Honestly, baby, I've never enjoyed myself so much. You make me feel so normal, so special, so loved, all at once."

"That's how I want you to feel, always. Does that mean I'm a good wife? Do I get a reward later?" She bats her eyelashes and giggles.

"Oh, I'm going to reward you deep and hard. Count on it."

We make out like teenagers, stretched out on cool stone, with only my bunched up jacket for a pillow. She pushes herself against me, letting me know how much she wants me.

"We might want to return one day for an anniversary, so I don't want to get kicked off the resort grounds. We better save our activities for the room." My hand goes to her belly, and I lightly run my fingers over the place where our child grows.

"That feels good. Relaxing. My husband has skills."

We're quiet for a couple of minutes, enjoying the peaceful calm of warm trade winds. Ana rests one hand on my thigh and lazily rubs circles with her thumb. Her touch means everything.

"Are you happy?" My question startles her. "It's important to me that you're happy. I've never really cared if other people were happy before, not even my parents. But I need to know if you're happy."

"I've always managed a fairly high level of contentment, but you've brought me joy, and even moments of euphoria. Yes, I'm happy. What about you?"

"I'm a mess, baby," I admit. "This love thing is new to me. I'm up, down, ecstatic, confused. The only thing that calms me down is to be with you, inside you. You're my anchor."

"I'm so grateful for you." She takes my face in her hands. "Just so you know, being with you calms me too. You're my anchor as well."

"I can't believe I'm going to be a father. I've been thinking about all the things I want to do with him…or her. Flying, soaring, sailing, hiking, fishing. I really do want to be a good parent."

"You'll be an excellent father. I have every confidence in you. When you set your mind to something, you achieve it. You'll be the best dad." Ana is quiet for a few beats, then she takes a deep breath before changing topics. "This morning, when I was playing with your dick, I wondered…if it's a boy…should we have him circumcised? I think maybe we should leave him be."

I sit up and pull her with me. This has the makings of a deep conversation.

"You know, I really hate Elena and what she did to me and my family. But she did give me confidence about my body. She made me feel okay about the look of the burns and my uncircumcised dick."

"You've shared your issues with the scars, but why would you feel bad about your penis? Other than pictures, I've never seen any other penis, but I know yours is perfection."

"Thank you, baby." I pull her knuckles to my lips and kiss them. "Dad and Elliot are both circumcised. I already felt different, like an outsider, so when I realized their dicks had been domed, I felt doubly outcast. Most American men are circumcised, so women tend to think skinned dicks are more attractive. I could tell a couple of my subs had issues with sucking me off, so I cut them loose in a hurry."

Sometimes I think the only reason I kept Leila around as long as I did was because she seemed to like sucking my uncut dick. This made her a rarity among the women I met.

"Less information about subs fellating you would be nice."

"Sorry, baby." I kiss her forehead, and run my fingers through her silky hair.

"Just so you know, I think your penis is gorgeous. Yours is my one and only forever dick. You taste so good, and when you're inside me…the way the skin slides against me when you move in and out…it's a gliding sensation. I guess I wouldn't get that if you were circumcised."

"All this talk about my dick moving in and out of you has me horny as fuck. Let's go back to the room, open up the balcony doors, and enjoy our last night in Maui. There's one last birthday package I want to unwrap, and it's my favorite."

I run my hand over her gauzy sundress, feeling her curves, and I know we won't get much sleep tonight.


	27. Penthouse

**Many thanks to the incomparable nikkistew2 for prereading and providing notes!**

 **The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 27**

 **Penthouse**

 **Sunday, June 19, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

I'm tired.

It's a combination of several things.

First and foremost, pregnancy seems to zap my energy. Christian and I have been reading "What to Expect When You're Expecting," and I understand it's normal to be fatigued in the first trimester.

I've also missed out on sleep. I was up late last night, having bedtime fun with Christian. We wanted to enjoy the last night of our honeymoon, making love twice with the trade winds circulating through the open balcony doors. Getting up early this morning to board the flight back to Seattle hasn't helped. We departed Hawaii at 8 am. With the time difference we'll land in Seattle at 5 pm, about an hour from now. I've had one nap already today, and I'll probably have another.

Christian's phone pings. Deep in thought, his eyes scan the screen, and he runs his thumb along his bottom lip. Even his smallest gestures are so sexy. I try to get my mind off sex, and settle into _Middlemarch_ , an old favorite, thankful once again not to be reading any more miserable manuscripts from SIP.

"The text was from Gail," Christian says, placing his phone face down on the table next to him. "She was so upset over the dead kitten, she had the appliance company replace the refrigerator. It wasn't the appliance company's fault, but they graciously made the exchange. She's unpacked the clothes and personal items we stored away for the remodel and put them back in place. When we return to the penthouse, we'll gather up what we need and move to the Fairmont."

"Leila wants to scare us away. I don't like your apartment, but I won't be run off. I won't let the bitch win. Besides, I want access to a kitchen, so I can cook for us. I don't want to live on room service food."

"Please, baby, be reasonable. Let's put the penthouse on the market now, and stay at the Fairmont. It's only until we move to Bellevue."

"That'll take months. I don't care how fast Elliot's crews are, I know enough about construction to reason it may take six months or longer to remodel our house and the security quarters. And the Fairmont is a very public place. Our comings and goings will be public knowledge. Rumors will start. We'd be more vulnerable in a hotel setting."

"You're right about a hotel, but I don't like the idea of going back to the penthouse. I feel certain it's Leila, and she's gotten bolder. Welch and Barney have already swept the apartment for bugs and cameras, but I wouldn't put it past Leila to hide more nasty shit around the apartment. I've asked Gail, Ryan, and Reynolds to search for other calling cards."

I shudder, trying to imagine what could be worse than a dead cat. Short of a dead human, there is nothing worse.

"If that skank returns, I'll beat her down with one of my cast iron skillets. Mia defended me against Mrs. Robinson, but I'm taking the next bitch down by myself."

Anger is a very productive emotion. It makes one wary and defensive.

Christian shakes his head. His beautiful mouth is pursed into a tight-lipped smile.

"That ferocious glint in your eye tells me you're ready," he says. "Yes, I do believe you could take someone down."

"I think the Mama Bear has come out in me." I spread my hand across my lower abdomen, where our child grows. "I don't like the idea of anyone threatening my child, my man, or my home. I'm glad I look ferocious, because that's the way I feel."

"Remind me to stay on your good side, baby. Gail says Mia called to check on our arrival time. Apparently she, Katherine, Elliot, and Ethan are coming over at six. Never mind that we might be exhausted, or not want company." Christian's mouth drops to a pout.

As tired as I am, I do want to see my friends.

"I had a nap earlier, and I've missed everyone. I'm looking forward to seeing them, hearing about Barbados, and showing off our honeymoon pics. You'll have to help me stay awake. Poke me if I start to nod off."

"Poking you sounds like fun." Christian waggles his brows, making me laugh.

"You know what I mean."

"As much as I'd like to turn them away, I understand your need to reconnect, especially with Katherine. I asked Gail to prepare a big spread so they can stay for dinner."

"Thank you, my darling husband. You're the best." With his face in my hands, I pull Christian in for a kiss, letting him know there's more where that came from.

XXXXXXX

As soon as we arrive back in Seattle, we walk through the penthouse with Taylor, Gail, and Reynolds.

Gail is visibly shaken when she relates the distress of finding the dead kitten.

"It took me a moment to process what I was looking at," Gail says with a shudder. I don't know Gail well, but out of instinct, I pull her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that," I commiserate. "What a shock it must have been to find a dead kitten in the fridge, something so tiny and innocent."

"Sir, Detective Clarke would like to speak to you tomorrow. He's coming by after lunch." Reynolds states grimly. This violation has embarrassed our security.

"Did you share our suspicions regarding Leila?" Christian inquires.

"Yes, sir. I described Miss Williams as a former associate who has a vendetta of some sort. I tried to be as vague and discreet as possible. A forensic tech gathered evidence from the apartment, fingerprints, photos, et cetera. The carcass was tagged and bagged. Clarke says they'll determine the cause of death, whether it was natural or an act of animal cruelty."

"What does Clarke need from me? I don't see that I'll be any help." Christian's reluctance to speak with detectives is obvious.

"I don't know, sir," Reynolds says. "But I think the lobby footage will prove enlightening. Whenever you're ready, I'll share that with you."

"There's no time like the present. Let's go," Christian says.

"Excuse me, Mr. Grey," Gail says. "I'd better get back to the kitchen."

"Have you seen the footage?" Christian asks her.

"No, sir," Gail answers fretfully.

"Come along," Christian says. "We'll all go."

Gail raises a brow and looks to Taylor, who shrugs his shoulders. Apparently, Christian's inclusion of Gail is out of the ordinary.

Taylor leads the way to the security office, a place I've never seen. We go through the door leading to the employee living space. There is an anteroom, with coat hooks and shelves, then two doors. We enter the one on the left, which is the security office.

Across the top of one wall are television screens with live CCTV coverage. Below the TV monitors is a work counter with stools and two iMacs with large screens. Reynolds plops down on one of the stools and pulls up the lobby footage.

"Tell me why my CCTV was turned off," Christian demands, tension in his voice.

"Sir," Gail says. "That's my doing. Reynolds was on an errand. Your brother arrived, said it creeped him out to know he was being recorded, so I showed him to the office here. He turned it off, said it was unnecessary. I'm very sorry."

"Well, shit," Christian says through clenched jaw. His fists are balled at his side. "What use are cameras if people who don't live here can have them turned off on a whim?" he complains rhetorically.

"It's okay. Gail, please don't worry about it." I try to reassure her. I hope Gail isn't worried about losing her job. I wish Christian could show more patience.

All attention is on the computer monitor, as Reynolds plays video of the lobby. Elliot's crew of six enters the lobby, and Leila slides in behind them. She smiles, twirls her hair flirtatiously, and stands close. She chats up the men and follows them into the elevator. She literally walked in with the construction crew!

"What the fuck! Could it have been any easier?" Christian pulls at his hair.

"I've interviewed Mr. Grey's crew, and they said she used her real name, passed herself off as the decorator's assistant, said she was there to check on the installation of the art work. She talked Ben Langley, the foreman, into helping her hang the paintings. Langley said she was quite the flirt. He tried to get her number, invited her to lunch, but she declined his advances, saying she was already involved with someone."

"Is there any possible connection between Miss Williams and the decorator?" Taylor asks.

"No connection," Reynolds says. "Amanda Lennox, the decorator, was quite puzzled when she came back with her assistant to install the artwork, and found the job had already been done. Miss Lennox said whomever placed the paintings did a wonderful job. Between Miss Williams' work and Gail's, the only task left for Miss Lennox was the placement of a few sculptures and accessories."

"What's the next step?" I ask.

"The police are on the lookout for Miss Williams," Reynolds says. "Don't worry, Mrs. Grey. She'll turn up."

"Let's pray she doesn't turn up here again," Christian says, pulling me into his side.

"She can't get in without the elevator code. I'm not going to worry too much about it. The apartment really does look like a completely different place." The remodel is splendid. It's not enough of a change to make me want to stay here, but I can live with the place until we get into our new house.

"I'm glad you're pleased, baby. I like it, too." Christian's smile beams approval.

 **Christian**

Right on time, exactly at six, my siblings arrive with friends in tow.

"Surprise!" Mia and Katherine say in unison. Behind them are Elliot, Ethan, Ros, and Gwen.

Mia bounds off the elevator to pull both Ana and me into a hug. She's careful to grab me by the elbow and not hug closely.

"We brought gifts. It's your wedding shower," Mia says, holding up two identical white boxes tied with large white bows.

I notice all six are carrying gifts. Suddenly I feel selfish. Have I denied Anastasia the opportunity for bridal showers and all the other wedding trappings?

"A shower? Thank you." Anastasia put her hand over her mouth, and she's tearing up. Shit. I guess I really have deprived her. She looks at me. "We have the sweetest friends."

"We'll put our gifts on the coffee table, if that's okay." As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Katherine places a gift basket on the table. She doesn't bother to wait for a response. She's so damned pushy. "Oh, my gosh, Ana. Look at you, wearing a wedding band. You really are a married lady. Marriage is a good look for you."

"Thanks, Bug. I've missed you so much," my wife gushes, hugging her friend.

"Let me see yours," Mia says, grabbing my left hand and peering at my gold wedding band. "Marriage agrees with both of you. I'm proud of you. You opened yourself up and went for it."

"Thank you," I tell Mia, one of the few people who truly understands what a miracle it is that Ana and I found each other.

"Boss, I'm proud of you too," Ros says, "but right now I'd like a drink and a tour of the remodel. I already like what I see. The place finally has a splash of color."

"I'd love to show all of you around," Ana offers. "We'll start in the kitchen and get drinks."

"What did the apartment look like before?" Ethan asks Gwen and Mia. I can't make out what the girls are saying, but they're probably telling him the place was dull as dishwater. They'd be right.

"Coming?" Katherine asks Elliot, reaching out for his hand.

"Babe, have you forgotten I've seen it? I'll stay here with 'lil bro, while you tour the new digs. Make note of what you like. I can't wait to hear what you think." El gives Katherine a kiss and squeezes her hand.

It's clear to see. My brother is completely besotted with Katherine. It won't be long before he pops the question.

"I did a walk through of your new house this morning," he tells me. "Olga Kelly gave me the tour of both properties. She explained about your neighbors not wanting to sell the old Lincoln place."

"Did she tell you why the neighbor won't sell?" I hope Elliot can see the error of his ways.

"Yes. And I'm sorry for that. I fucked Jennifer back in high school, used her like a Kleenex, and never called her again. This morning I went next door and apologized to her for being such a dick. She seemed to appreciate what I had to say. She told me if you made another offer, she and her husband would reconsider."

"So more money will do it?" Isn't that almost always the way of it? This makes me feel even more gratitude for having Anastasia in my life. Money means nothing to my beautiful wife.

"Looks that way. I know you've already offered a million over appraisal, but maybe another half mill would do the trick. By the way, I've got an architect lined up. We need to meet with her right away."

"Do I know her? Can she work fast?" As nicely as the penthouse remodel turned out, Anastasia and I want to be out of here as quickly as possible.

"Gia Matteo." Elliot takes a swig of his beer. "And yes, she's fast."

Will my brother always think with his dick?

"Damn right, she's fast. And that's exactly why neither of us should have anything to do with her. Have you lost your fucking mind?" I demand furiously, my voice raising a bit, and I look around to make sure everyone has left for the apartment tour.

"What's your problem, bro?"

I nod my head toward the balcony, so Elliot will follow. Once we're outside, I slide the door shut behind him and launch into him.

"I'll ask you again. Have you lost your fucking mind? Hiring Gia is disrespectful to Katherine. Think if the shoe were on the other foot. Would you want Katherine working with someone she's fucked, not to mention recommending him to friends and family?"

"I see what you mean…" Elliot accedes, looking off into the distance, pondering my words.

"Flynn cautioned me to stay away from the women in my past, not to even speak to them. It's too easy to fall back into old patterns. Didn't he talk to you about this?"

"Not explicitly. But he did drone on a bit, something about not looking back."

What the fuck is Flynn telling Elliot? Or is Elliot not listening?

"You and I are alike in some respects. We're like alcoholics who need to stay away from the sauce. Let's say you and Katherine have an argument, or things aren't going so well. It would be way too easy for you to fall into bed with someone else. And having someone familiar around, like Gia, makes it extra easy."

"I see what you mean. Are you worried about cheating on Banana?"

"No. Anastasia is it for me, and I can't foresee ever wanting to cheat. I actually worry more that I won't be enough for her. I'll do everything in my power to keep unsavory elements from our marriage. My advice to you is to keep at bay anyone who might give the appearance of being a threat to your marriage." I think of my prenuptial promises to Anastasia.

"So now you're a family man, giving me relationship advice. Never thought I'd live to see the day."

"Take it or leave it. I'm just trying to help you stay away from trouble."

"I dig it, bro, and I appreciate it. So Gia is out. How about the Sampsons?"

"The married couple who did the Bezos place?"

"Yes. Great firm and they work fast."

"Nail that down right away. Ana and I need to move out of here. Pass me your phone."

Elliot hands me his iPhone, no questions. It's a small thing, but it feels nice to have his trust. I scroll through and find Gia Matteo in his contacts. I press send and put the call on speaker.

"Hello, stud," Gia purrs. "I always get excited when you call. I've missed you. Have you missed me?" Hearing first hand the way Matteo talks to Elliot, I know I've been correct in my assessment. I glare at my brother knowing he's encouraged Gia's behavior.

Elliot sticks his hands in his pockets and looks away in embarrassment.

"Miss Matteo, this is Christian Grey. I understand my brother called you about the new home I've purchased."

I've taken Gia by surprise, and she's quiet for a few beats before she responds.

"Oh…yes. And I'm thrilled for the opportunity to work with you."

"I do apologize, but unbeknownst to Elliot, I've already engaged a different architectural firm. I won't be needing your services. Again, I apologize for any inconvenience."

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind, Christian?"

"That's Mr. Grey to you, and I'm certain of my choice. In the future, you might try behaving discreetly and answering your phone professionally. Good day." I hand the phone back to Elliot.

"Damn, bro. You shut her down in a hurry."

"Yes. And that's what you need to do, every time you're around someone who may threaten your relationship with Katherine."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate you looking out for me. It's new and it feels good."

"Haven't I looked out for you before?"

"Yeah, but that was business. This, right now, is personal. It's different."

"I guess so. You're my brother. I care about you. A lot."

"I love you, too, bro...During my conversation with Olga Kelly, I asked her to find a place near you and the 'rents. I want to sell my loft and move into a family home. I'm gonna pop the question soon. Maybe I'll do it at your reception."

"Do you mind waiting until after the reception? I want Anastasia to feel like she's the complete center of attention. It's not important to her, but it's important to me."

"Sure, bro." El grins at me. "Banana really has you by the dick. It's nice to see."

"I love her. It's as simple as that."

Elliot smiles in appreciation.

"I understand completely," Elliot leans against the balcony rail, looking out over the city. "While we were discussing the old Lincoln place, Olga told me something interesting. She just picked up a new listing. John Lincoln has put his Mercer Island home on the market. He has liver cancer. It's terminal and he wants to settle up his affairs before he goes."

I've always felt a little guilty over the cuckoldry Elena and I participated in, but now that I'm a married man myself, the impact of it on Linc hits home. If Anastasia treated me the way Elena treated Linc, I wouldn't survive it.

"Shit. I've never been Linc's fan, but I feel for him."

Linc will die alone. No wife, no children. Thanks to Anastasia, that won't be my fate.

After Elliot and I discuss possible changes to the house on Lake Washington over a couple of beers, Anastasia returns to me. She's only been out of my sight for a few minutes, but I've missed her.

"I've no idea what the place looked like before, but it's gorgeous now," Katherine says. Her approval isn't particularly important to me. But it's important to Anastasia and Elliot, so from that standpoint, I appreciate her words.

"Your view is amazing," Ethan adds.

"The place is much improved," Mia says. "Everyone sit. It's time for the newlyweds to open gifts."

Mia steps between Anastasia and me. Taking us each by the hand, she leads us to the sofa, gesturing where she wants us to sit.

"Here," Mia says, placing a box in each of our laps. "Open my gifts first."

"I'll race you," Anastasia says. Her eyes twinkle in delight. She's really enjoying this surprise shower, and I make a decision to enjoy it too.

I rip at the paper, and within a few seconds I have the top off my box. Anastasia is struggling with some scotch tape.

"Here, baby, let me help you." I unwrap her box and hand it back to her.

"Thank you, darling," she says, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

"Damn, you two are so freaking cute," Ros says.

"We are, aren't we?" Anastasia giggles, not taking her eyes off me.

"3-2-1. Open," I command.

We open our boxes at the same time, and find an array of matching underwear and sleepwear. I've got red satin boxers, blue silk pajama pants, and various boxer briefs embellished with labels of 'yours', 'hers', and 'happy life.' Anastasia has corresponding panties labelled 'mine', 'his', and 'happy wife.' I see red satin and blue silk in her box, too.

"These are lovely," Anastasia giggles. "We'll have a lot of fun with these."

"Yes, thank you," I say. I like the idea of Anastasia and I dressed as a matching pair. I appreciate Mia's thoughtful gesture.

"You're welcome," Mia says, pushing Katherine's large gift basket to the forefront. "I'm dying to know what's in Kate's basket, so open this next."

"Oh, Bug, whatever you got us, I know we're going to love it." That remains to be seen, I say to myself.

Anastasia pulls away the ribbon and cellophane, to reveal an assortment of husband/wife themed items. There are 'wifey' and 'hubs' t-shirts, aprons, towels, pillowcases, and mugs. I have to admit, I quite like it.

"These are perfect," Ana says, clutching her new apron.

"Thank you, Katherine," I say sincerely. "I never knew being branded husband could mean so much."

"Open mine next," Elliot tells us. He hands me a tiny gift bag with an envelope inside. "Never in a million years did I think I'd be giving you a wedding gift. Congratulations, man."

I try to hand the bag to Anastasia, but she shakes her head.

"You open it," she whispers, leaning against me. I know she wants me to open it, because it's from Elliot.

"How did you know?" I ask Elliot after pulling out the gift certificate.

"I knew it was something you'd never done before, and it seemed like something that would interest you. Do you like it?"

"Hell, yes, I like it. I've always wanted to take a balloon ride." Elliot has given us a hot air balloon ride for two followed by a champagne picnic.

"It's not that you couldn't afford it," Ros says. "So why haven't you done the balloon thing?"

"Whenever I saw the ads, it seemed like a romantic, hearts-and-flowers sort of thing. It didn't feel right. But now I have someone to share the experience." Anastasia squeezes my hand and gives me a kiss. "Thanks, Lelliot."

From Ethan, Anastasia and I received a gift certificate for whitewater rafting, another first for both of us.

"I asked Elliot and Mia, and they said you'd never been whitewater rafting," Ethan tells me. "I knew you'd been on the Harvard row team, so I thought you might like it. And I knew it was also something Ana had never done before."

Kavanagh clearly put a lot of thought into this, choosing something special Anastasia and I can experience together.

Anastasia opens a card from José Rodriguez, and reads part of it aloud. I'm glad the fucker isn't here, but I won't bother my beautiful wife with any negativity.

" _I'm sorry I can't be there for your wedding shower, but I'll see you very soon. Enclosed is a gift certificate for a couple's portrait package from José Rodriguez Photography. I'm so_ honored _to be part of your celebration_." Anastasia returns the card to the envelope.

"That was very sweet of José," Katherine says.

"Yes, very," Ana replies. "A portrait package is a wonderful gift."

"Very thoughtful. You know how I like photos," I say, eliciting a giggle from Anastasia.

The last two boxes are from Ros and Gwen.

The larger one carries the distinctive Neiman Marcus gift tag. I reach for the ribbon on that box, but Ros stops me.

"Open the smaller one first," she orders.

I tear through the paper and push through a sea of bubble wrap and foam peanuts to find a double magnum of 1995 Boërl & Kroff Brut.

I'm speechless.

"Our talk in Paris," Ros reminds me. "Do you remember? It was a year ago or more. We discussed how distinctive this vintage is. You didn't believe you'd ever have anything to celebrate that could possibly be worthy of this champagne. Well…now you do. I'm so happy for you both."

Tears spring from her eyes, and Ros wipes them away with the back of her hand.

"Thank you." It's all I can muster right now. I'm overcome by the memory of that conversation. This is a sixteen thousand dollar bottle of champagne, and as much as I had wanted to buy it, I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. I could easily afford it, but I recognized it as a vintage reserved for only the most special occasions...weddings, births, declarations of love...celebrations I believed I'd never experience.

I was wrong.

"Since this bottle is so special, perhaps we should save it for an anniversary," Anastasia suggests, squeezing my hand. With Ana being pregnant, we certainly can't drink it now.

I'm deeply touched by this gift, and I understand something important.

Ros and I have always been friends.

"Now open the other box," Ros says. "Gwen chose that part of the gift."

Together Anastasia and I pull on separate ends of the ribbon.

"How lovely," my wife gasps, unwrapping one of twelve Baccarat champagne flutes."Thank you. Gwen, I couldn't have chosen better myself. We'll cherish these."

"We hope you'll enjoy them for many years to come," Gwen says. "Oh, my…Christian, when did you acquire the Victor Lambeth piece?"

I'm confused. What's Gwen talking about?

"I don't know what you mean," I tell her.

"There." Gwen points to a sculpture about four feet high, sitting on a base in the corner of the room.

"Oh, that's Icarus," Ana says, taking me by surprise. "Isn't he beautiful? When we were at the Coping Together gala, there was a silent auction. Christian told me to spend money, so I did. I didn't know we'd won the auction until today, when we arrived home."

"You never told me." I wag my finger playfully at Ana, and she grabs it, giggling in glee.

"You have a good eye," Katherine says.

"Indeed you do, Ana," Gwen says. "I'm impressed.

"Of course I have a good eye," Anastasia giggles. "I chose Christian, didn't I? He's my favorite work of art."

"I'm on saccharin overload," Ethan declares, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I think it's cute," Mia says.

"So do I," Katherine winks at my wife. "It's wonderful to see my friend in love."

"Bug…I just remembered," Anastasia says, suddenly serious. "Just after I placed my bid, a man approached me. His name was Jay, and he said to tell you hello. He knows you and your folks."

"I don't know anyone named Jay. Do you?" Katherine asks Ethan.

"No. I think I know Mom and Dad's friends pretty well, but I don't recall anyone named Jay. I'll text Dad and ask." Ethan pulls out his phone.

Something about this doesn't sit well with me.

"What else can you recall?" I ask Ana.

"Jay knew my name, and he knew Kate and I are friends."

"What did he look like?" Ethan asks.

"I don't know," Ana shrugs. "Like every other man there, he wore a tuxedo. He had a mask and it was dark."

"You're just now remembering this? Why didn't you tell me?" I can't help but feel put out over this. Why did Anastasia not say something sooner?

"Jay approached me just minutes before my encounter with Elena. A lot has happened since then. Meeting some random stranger slipped my mind. Please don't be upset with me."

I suppose she's right. A lot has gone down between then and now.

"I'm not upset with you, baby. I just want to keep you safe."

"Dad just texted back," Ethan says. "Neither he nor Mom know anyone named Jay."

"That's odd," Katherine says.

"So much for mysteries," Elliot says, unconcerned, and rubbing his belly. "I need grub, and Gail's pork tenderloin is calling my name."

Unlike El, I have no appetite. I'll have Welch and Taylor check the guest list and sign-in sheet.

 **Monday, June 20, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

I've been dying to use the built-in griddle of our new cooktop, so I decide pancakes are in order. Gail has organized the kitchen so well, finding what I need is intuitive. I do hope Christian will enjoy my cooking as much as he does Gail's. I don't feel in competition with her in any way, but pleasing my husband is priority number one.

Husband.

I look down at the black v-neck tee labelling me 'Wifey.' Then I find the gold band on my left hand. Sometimes I still can't believe Christian is mine and I am his.

"Boo!" Christian startles me. "I like the way you smile when you look at your wedding ring. I feel the same way about mine."

"Good morning, hubby." I push up against his hard body and give him a long, soft kiss. "Ready for some pancakes? With sugar on top?"

I grind against him.

"Hmmm, I like that," he says, returning the grind. "I wish I could hang around and enjoy some of your sugar, but I can't stay. I have meetings at Grey House and Andrea is picking up breakfast for everyone."

"I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed," I whine. "Why do you have to go in so early?"

Christian runs his hands through my hair and kisses my forehead.

"Baby, before I met you, I worked ninety or more hours a week. I intend to cut back, but first Ros and I need to hire extra help. Recruitment takes time. Until then I'll still be working long hours. My new goal is to leave here at seven, be home by six, have dinner with you, then work in my study for three or four more hours. And I will always need to be available on weekends. That's the reality of GEH."

"Ninety hours a week. That's inhumane." I've worked long hours, but nothing like Christian.

"Until you came along, I enjoyed the punishing hours. When I was busy I didn't have time to think too deeply about things. My old lifestyle suited me fine, but then you pranced into my life, and turned everything on end."

"Pranced? Never in my life have I ever pranced." I wiggle my butt against my husband. He seems to enjoy my flirtations. "You have me confused with someone else."

Christian holds me close and I can feel his chest rumble with laughter.

"There's no mistaking you for someone else. You're one of a kind," Christian tweaks my nose. "And I'm sure I've seen you prance."

"When will you be home?" I hate that our honeymoon has come to an end.

"I'll be home for lunch to meet with Clarke. But why don't you come to the office with me and spend the morning? You can bring a book and read while I do business."

"No," I tell him. "That wouldn't feel right. I've got plenty to do here, learning my way around my new home. That wedding band will surely be fodder for employee gossip. Are you ready for questions?"

"Let them speculate." My husband holds his left hand up, the pride evident.

"Speculate they will. If I go out, do I need to do anything with the security system?" There's so much I need to learn about how this household works.

"No, staff manages all that. The CCTV runs all the time, so you're always on display. The only exception is the master suite. Sawyer is on duty today. But why do you need to go out?" Christian's voice is edged with concern.

"I was considering a walk around my new neighborhood."

"Take Sawyer. Ryan is also around, I do believe. I'm taking Taylor with me."

"Gail has the day off. Why don't Taylor and Gail get the same days off? You know, so they can go on dates or just hang out with each other." Sharing quarters means they get to see each other daily, but I bet they'd enjoy more time off together.

"I never thought much about it, but I suppose we do need to address that. Are you sure you won't join me at the office?"

"No, thank you. I think I'll play in the kitchen, read a bit, maybe take that walk."

"Text me if you leave the apartment." Christian kisses me, and when I deepen the kiss, he pushes away, laughing. "I know what you're trying to do, Mrs. Grey, and I'm not falling for your seduction."

"Fine," I pout. "Be that way. But rush through those meetings, because I miss you already."

Christian gives me a peck on the nose, and he's gone.

I tie on my brand new 'Mrs. Grey' apron, run my fingers over the lettering, then rummage through the cupboards to find what I need for chocolate cupcakes. I dock my iPod and pull up my playlist of boppy oldies. Katrina and the Waves tell me they're walking on sunshine, but I think I have them beat.

"You can't even dance, so I'm sure you can't fuck properly. What does he see in you?" The voice is soft, but familiar.

Show no fear.

"Hello, Leila. What are you doing here?"

She's all cleaned up, looking and smelling quite different from the early morning encounter we had in front of KKAV. Her hair is shiny and her makeup is done to perfection. She's wearing a blue dress and nude stilettos.

"I should ask you the same thing, bitch. You're in my space. I cook for Mr. Grey on the weekends."

Where the hell is Sawyer? Christian said the CCTV is on. Stay calm. Don't let her see you sweat.

"There have been some changes since your contract with Mr. Grey."

"Only because you've tricked him. Corinne told us. You've somehow convinced Mr. Grey that he doesn't need us."

"Who's Corinne?"

"You show such ignorance. Corinne is submissive number one and founder of the Sub Club. She told us about you."

A club. What's that about?

"Seeing as how I don't know anyone named Corinne, how could she possibly know anything about me?"

"Mistress Elena is Corinne's godmother. She told Corinne all about you, and Corinne told us. You can't give him what he wants, what he needs. You're taking him away from us, turning him into something he's not."

"This 'us' you speak of...are these club members?"

"Yes. The Sub Club. We're all Mr. Grey's past submissives."

"I see. What do you do at these meetings?"

"Talk. Share our memories. Meetups are usually in restaurants. We choose places where there's a private dining room. Out of respect for Mr. Grey, we won't violate the NDA by reminiscing where we might be overheard. We drink wine, mostly Cabernet and Sancerre, since those seemed to be Mr. Grey's favorites. We wear items of clothing and jewelry he gave us. If we still have our Audis, we drive those to the meeting. It's our way of feeling close to Mr. Grey."

The thought of a bunch of women sitting around talking about my husband makes me nauseous.

"How often do you get together?"

"Three or four times a year. But Corinne calls a special meeting when there's something new to discuss, like when Mr. Grey went five months without a sub. Or more recently when we found out about you."

"That doesn't seem very healthy," I tell Leila. "Don't you all want to move on with your lives?"

"We've all tried to move on, but Mr. Grey spoiled us. You know how it is."

"Not really. My relationship with Christian is very different from yours."

"Different. Yes. You're forcing Mr. Grey to be someone he's not. His playroom is gone. Surely that's your fault."

"You ascribe far too much power to me. Christian does want he wants to do. His needs have changed."

"Why are you wearing that stupid apron? Mrs. Grey?" Leila points at the name emblazoned on the bib of the apron. "Delusional much?"

No, evil cat-killing bitch, I'm not the delusional one.

I untie the apron and quickly pull it over my head, revealing my new 'wifey' t-shirt. I hold up my left hand.

"Christian and I were married eight days ago. We have matching wedding bands, matching t-shirts, matching aprons."

Leila laughs in disbelief and shakes her head.

"You're a goddamn liar. Sir would never marry. He doesn't even date. It was the first thing he told each of us when we met him. He needs a submissive, not a wife. What are you playing at?"

"I could ask you the same thing. How did you get in here?" I didn't hear the elevator ping. Where the hell did she come from?

"You're even more stupid than I thought," Leila says, laughing at how foolish she thinks I am. "I came up through the emergency staircase. The elevator was broken once, and one of Sir's security guys escorted me up through staircase. I looked over his shoulder and memorized the code to the cipher lock. The code has never been changed. It's like Sir always knew I'd come back to him."

She's crazy. If she'll kill a kitten, what will she do to me?

"You've broken into my home. Leave now, Leila, or I'll press charges." I'll press charges regardless, but she doesn't need to know that.

" _Your_ home? The hell you say. I've spent more time here than you have. Corinne says you and Sir barely know each other."

What Leila says is true. She's spent far more time in this apartment than I have. Christian and I haven't known each other for very long. What she doesn't know is this: Christian and I know each other intimately in all the ways that count. Our bodies, minds, and souls are perfectly suited.

"Christian and I are married. I'm co-owner of this apartment. Christian put my name on the deed. In fact, he gave me half of everything."

Leila snorts in derision.

"I don't believe you. And I'm not leaving unless Mr. Grey gives the order."

"We'll see about that. Tell me about Corinne. Did she put you up to this?"

"Corinne is my friend. She's very supportive and encouraging. As a matter of fact, she bought this dress for me." Leila runs her hands down the front of the dress, smoothing the wrinkles in the linen fabric. "Mr. Grey's sister hurt Mistress Elena, and Corinne says it should have been you who got burned."

"Did Corinne know of Elena's plan to attack me with acid?"

Suddenly it occurs to me that Leila might have some kind of weapon. Her dress has no pockets and she's not carrying a purse. My hands instinctively find their way over my abdomen, protecting Blip.

"Yes, Corinne knew…hey, no more talk. I'm here to take my rightful place. You need to get the hell out of here. You aren't what Sir needs. He cares for me. He told me so."

"What did he say?" Could it be Christian told Leila he loved her?

"He said…he's devoted to me and my needs." Ah, yes, Christian and his old ideas of devotion.

I let out the breath I was holding.

"I think you misunderstood. I'm not going anywhere, Leila. This is my home. You're the one who's leaving."

Leila steps toward me. I press my heels into the floor, holding firm.

"No, bitch," she says.

"You nasty skank." I step forward, surprised by my name-calling. My voice feels strained. "You broke into my house. Get the hell out. I'm calling the police."

"Call the cops. They won't touch me, because Mr. Grey will never press charges. Stupid cunt. I'm going to fuck you up, just like I did to that kitten."

I've had enough. I'm at the end of my tether.

"You sick bitch." I spit in Leila's face.

Leila lunges for me and her hands go around my neck. Her squeeze is stronger than anything I could imagine. I pull at her hands, bend back her fingers, and I'm able to draw in a large breath. I claw at her face, bite her arms, gouge her eyes. I'm fighting not just for my life, but for Baby Blip too.

Using my elbows and knees I finally break completely free. I slam her into the refrigerator with a head-butt to her chest. Unable to keep her balance in those ridiculous heels, Leila falls to the ground. I kick her over and over again, aiming for her head, face, chest, and abdomen.

When she rolls over, I kick her in the back. I wish I'd worn steel-toe boots today, or some other footwear more suitable for beatdowns. These Nikes seem too soft for the likes of her. She likes it rough, right? I kick and kick. I can't stop. It's as if I'm having an out of body experience. Is this really me? There's something very therapeutic in beating her ass until hell won't take her ass back. I feel no shame in it.

At last, Leila quiets. Is she unconscious or just playing possum? In all the horror movies, the evil bastards always return if you don't finish them off. No matter. I'm unable to stop myself and continue to kick, landing more blows. I can hear myself screaming, shrieking epithets at Leila.

"Ana! What the hell!" Sawyer pulls me away from Leila. "Stop, you'll kill her."

"Police first," I tell Sawyer. "Then my husband."

"Are you okay?" Sawyer asks, looking me up and down, checking for injury.

"I'll be fine once this bitch is behind bars." I kick Leila again for good measure, and I hear a low moan. I was right to keep the bitch underfoot.

"She's incapacitated. There's no need to continue kicking her."

 _Never kick someone when they're down._ It's something I've heard my dad say. But right now, I adhere to no code of ethics. I simply can't abide this woman's presence in my home. Besides, he wasn't talking about physical fights.

I kick the crazy whore again.

"Mrs. Grey!" Sawyer grabs my arm, drags me into the great room, and directs me to a large, plush chair. "Please stay put, while I deal with the authorities."

Sawyer calls 911 to report an intruder and I hear him ask for an ambulance. He calls Taylor next, but retreats to the kitchen so I can't hear what's being said. He's probably telling Taylor I've lost my mind.

I haven't seen Gail all morning. She has the day off, but she suddenly appears by my side with a cup of tea.

"Are you okay?" Her whispered concern is heartfelt.

"Yes, and I'll be even better when I see my husband."

"Taylor is bringing him home," Gail says. "They'll be here in a few minutes."

If I know Christian, he's barking at Taylor, trying to get home before the police arrive.

"Is she dead?" I ask. I halfway hope Gail will tell me Leila is no more, but Gail doesn't answer.

The old Ana, the naïve college student, is gone. I don't miss her.

I sip my tea, feeling fierce, strong, and surprisingly calm.

When Christian steps off the elevator, he rushes to my side, crouching in front of me.

"Are you okay? The baby?" Christian runs his eyes and hands over me, checking for injury.

"We're fine. But Leila won't ever stop. None of them will. You have to go public."

 **Christian**

Anastasia's assessment is correct. As much as I don't want to, I need to send a message to Leila and anyone else who wants to threaten our safety and happiness.

"Leila told me there's a Sub Club. Your former submissives meet regularly and discuss you. Someone named Corinne heads it up. Corinne is Elena's goddaughter. Elena fed Corinne information about you. Corinne knew beforehand that Elena was planning to attack me. She could have come forward and warned us, but she didn't."

My mind reels at this information. How stupid I was to never have discovered the close connection between Elena, Corinne, and her mother. Their association wasn't part of public record, but their private social gatherings should have somehow been on my radar.

"How did Leila get the elevator code?"

"She didn't use the elevator...the emergency staircase," Ana shakes her head in disgust. "She knew the combination to the cipher lock."

"Taylor!" I call out, and Taylor emerges from the kitchen.

"Leila got in through the emergency staircase. How the hell did that happen?"

"We'll find out," Taylor says. "Sir, might I remind you…you don't own the building. The Escala building management oversees the security of the building, including all emergency staircase exits, even the ones that open into each apartment."

"Fuck me in the heart. I can't wait to get the hell out of this place." I resolve to meet up with Cleve Anderson and initiate a lawsuit against Escala management. One of the draws to this building was the security, but I've been vulnerable for years. Now the safety of my wife and child are compromised.

"Sir, the police and EMT units are on their way up," Taylor says. "I'll be in the security office, viewing the CCTV tape."

"Are you ready for the police, baby?" I don't think Anastasia realizes how intimidating the police can be. She's so trusting.

"Of course. I've nothing to hide."

Two EMTs step off the elevator, armed with equipment. I never thought to inquire about Leila's condition, but according to the account Sawyer shared with Taylor, Ana got quite physical with Leila.

"Mr. Grey, looks like will supersede our afternoon meeting, since I'm the investigating officer." It's Clarke, the same detective who was on the scene the night of Elena's failed acid attack. "Hello, Miss Steele."

"Mrs. Grey," I correct him. "Anastasia and I are newly married."

"Congratulations," Clarke says, shaking my hand. "I'm sorry to interrupt your honeymoon, but can you tell me what happened?"

"I was home alone," Ana tells him. "Leila Williams broke in and an altercation ensued. She tried to choke me and I fought back."

Clarke peers at Anastasia's neck.

"Yes, I can see the bruises beginning to form. I'll need to take photos of that."

"The entire exchange was captured on CCTV," Ana offers.

"What are your relationships to Miss Williams?"

"I have no relationship," Ana says.

"She is a former associate," I say.

"Associate? Business or pleasure?" Clarke fixes me with an accusatory glare.

"Both, I suppose. Does any of that matter? Lock her up. She tried to hurt my wife."

"First Mrs. Lincoln, now Miss Williams. Your past associations are detrimental to your wife's health and welfare. I'm looking for motive."

"Leila is jealous of my relationship with Christian. That's the motive. She admitted to killing the kitten. It should all be on the CCTV tape."

"I see. May I view the tape now?"

"Sure. Sawyer is in the kitchen. Ask him to escort you to the security office. I'd take you myself, but I don't want to leave my wife."

"Of course," Clarke says. "I'll be back with more questions, after I view the tape."

As soon as Clarke is out of view, I text Taylor, telling him to rejoin us.

"How do you feel about staying here, baby? Are you certain you're comfortable here?"

"Yes," my wife says. "We're standing our ground."

 **XXXXXXX**


	28. Pursuit of Happiness

**Thank you, nikkistew2, for pre-reading. As always, your insights and contributions have proven invaluable.**

 **The Lucky Ones**

 **Chapter 28**

 **Pursuit of Happiness**

 **Monday, June 20, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

"I've reviewed the tape, and I'll be sending a copy to the DA's office," Det. Clarke says. "I don't believe you'll be facing any charges."

"Well, I should hope not," I say, feeling indignant. "Leila's the one who broke the law. She should be charged with assault. Not just assault, but what about unlawful entry and harassment? Attempted murder. There ought to be several charges against her."

"Those are possibilities, but you were quite aggressive. I've been told Miss Williams is in grave danger. She may not survive."

The consequences of my violent outburst suddenly hit me. My actions, defensible or not, may cause another human being to die. Perhaps if I had spoken to Leila more kindly, been more understanding, Detective Clarke wouldn't be delivering news of Leila's critical condition.

"It's okay, baby. You were only defending yourself." Christian, as if able to read my thoughts, pulls me close and kisses my temple. He gives Clarke a reproachful look. "You're upsetting my wife. She's been through too much."

"I don't want Leila to die," I say. "I only want her to stay away from us."

Det. Clarke looks from Christian to me. His eyes soften and he offers me a strained, weak smile.

"It's not my intent to upset you, Mrs. Grey, and I do believe Miss Williams meant harm. Sometimes these matters can become complicated…one person's word against another. But in this case we have video and audio, and if they square with what you're telling me, there won't be any issues. Can you direct me to the emergency staircase? When my techs are finished in the kitchen, they'll need to attend to Miss Williams' point of entry."

"I'll show you the way," Sawyer offers. Clarke turns to follow Sawyer.

"Wait," Christian tells Clarke, rising from his seat next to me on the sofa. "Do we know exactly how Miss Williams left a kitten in the refrigerator without detection?"

"The kitten had a broken neck and had only been dead for a short time. Miss Williams will be charged with animal cruelty. From interviews of the construction crew, we know there was a bustle of activity in the apartment. She could have slipped into the kitchen and quickly deposited the carcass handily enough. It was a small package, easily hidden in a purse or bag. The kitten was sealed in a gallon sized baggie, so there was no obvious odor."

Christian shakes his head in frustration and anger.

"Do you have more questions?" Clarke looks from Christian to me.

"I don't," Christian says. "What about you, baby?"

"No." I want the authorities out of my house. I'm exhausted.

When Sawyer and Clarke are out of earshot, Christian retakes his place next to me on the sofa, pulling my head against his shoulder. He strokes my hair, and I relax into his touch.

"As soon as the police leave, I'm handing Sawyer his ass." Christian's voice is filled with vitriol, but his touch is soothing, gentle.

"Do you really believe this was Sawyer's fault?"

"He was supposed to keep his eyes on you. What the fuck was he doing? I could have lost you today. My life doesn't work without you."

"My life doesn't work without you, either. But how about talking to Sawyer before going off on him? Calm and rational communication is always a good thing."

Christian pulls me into his lap.

"Don't play Flynn with me, baby." His voice is stern. "I pay Sawyer good money to do nothing but watch you on a monitor."

"If we really are a team, then I'm his employer now as well. I want to hear him out first. Maybe Taylor should join us and we should all sit down for a talk." Sawyer is young and new to his job. He is also earnest and sincere, so perhaps we should treat this as a learning experience.

"Fine. But only for you. I can't wait to hear the lame ass excuses he has for being so negligent." Christian has one arm around my shoulder and he uses the other to pull at his hair.

"Who thought Leila could enter through the emergency stairway? Not you, not Taylor, not Welch. This was a huge wake-up call. Lessons have been learned. You'll punish Sawyer for everyone's mistake?"

"He was supposed to be watching you." Christian's tightens his grip around my shoulder.

"Security for any wealthy, well-known person is complicated enough. But you have a coterie of ex-subs who meet on a regular basis. Leila told me about the 'Sub Club.' I assume you knew your exes were getting together to discuss old times and catch up with news of Mr. Grey."

"I had no idea they'd formed some kind of club. Fuck." Christian yanks at his hair with his left hand. "I allowed them to stay in touch. In retrospect, that was a terrible thing. It was Elena's idea, but I certainly didn't object."

"I only did a bit of research, but these women don't sound at all like true submissives. They seem avaricious and unstable. They meet up to talk about their past experiences with you and all the latest gossip about their Mr. Grey. It all sounds very unhealthy and very disrespectful of their former Dom. Someone named Corinne seems to be behind a lot of this. Who is she?"

"Corinne was my first submissive. Do you recall me telling you Elena loaned me out to another Domme?" I nod. I can feel Christian's agitation, so I play with his hair, knowing this will relax him. "The woman who borrowed me was her best friend, Lorna Stovall, also known as Mistress Lori in the community. Corinne is Lorna Stovall's daughter and Elena's goddaughter. I didn't know about the relationships until very recently."

"Such a tangled mess. We're beginning married life with way too many complications." I regret my words as soon as they leave my lips. Christian wears a look of grim defeat, and I know he blames himself. I take his face in my hands. "Stop beating yourself up. We're in this together and together we'll fix this."

My phone vibrates and shimmies against the top of the coffee table.

Christian picks it up to check the incoming number.

"It's Bandi Chopra. Take the call, baby. Invite her to our reception."

I like Bandi and admire her, but I'm surprised Christian wants to invite someone neither of us knows very well.

"Hello, Bandi. How have you been?"

"Very well. Are you enjoying the show hiatus?" Her tone is light and breezy, so apparently the story of a home invasion at Escala hasn't hit the wires yet.

Christian kisses the top of my head, and leaves the room. I hope he's not going off to cuss out Sawyer.

"Yes. Christian and I just returned from Hawaii, so I'm taking full advantage of the break. I'm sure you've been busier than ever. Congratulations on your syndication deal."

"Thank you. That's why I'm calling. I'm glad you're taking time for R & R, because you'll soon have your hands full. You've been hired as an associate producer. I'm certain Leo Verling will soon be contacting you, but before we get caught up in the endless meetings associated with the show, I'd like to know you better. Do you have time in your schedule to meet me for lunch?"

"This week is shaping up to be a busy one, but how about next week?" There will be plenty of time for lunch meetings after our party on Saturday.

"Does noon Wednesday the 29th work?"

"That's perfect."

"I'll make reservations at Kastoori. One of my cousins owns it. It's on Stewart Street, close to you at Pike Street Market. I'll e-mail a reminder."

"Thanks, I'm looking forward to it. I know this is short notice, but Christian and I are hosting a party at Mile High this Saturday. We'd love it if you can attend."

"That sounds like fun, but I'm in marriage negotiations right now, and my probable fiancé visits this weekend."

Marriage negotiations!

I have to know more.

"That's intriguing. Tell me about him." Bandi is my boss, but somehow it feels as if we've crossed over into friendship territory.

"His name is Rajiv. Our fathers are business colleagues, and our families have agreed we're a good match. Both Raj and I are from Brahmin families, and we have roots in the northern region of India. Tradition is important to my parents and I want to honor them."

"What about love?"

"I'm assured love will emerge over time. I think Raj might be the one. My parents have introduced me to other men, but I've turned them all away. Raj is the first who gives me butterflies. All the preliminaries have been completed. I just need to spend a bit more time with him before I feel certain. Everyone else has agreed to the arrangement. They're just waiting for me."

"I'd love to meet him. Please bring him as your plus one. It's black tie. We've planned cocktails, dinner, and dancing."

"We'll spend the day with my family, but I do believe our evening is free. I'd go ahead and accept, but I must check with Rajiv and my parents."

"Of course. I understand family comes first, but I do hope you'll be able to attend. I'll courier the invitation to your office."

"Thank you, Ana."

"Thank you for the lunch invitation. I look forward to seeing you soon."

After I close the call, Christian plops down on the sofa and pulls me into his lap. He smells so delicious, a mix of cologne and Grey musk.

"Where have you been?" I play with the sleeve of his t-shirt.

"I changed clothes, then looked in at the police. I wish they'd hurry the hell out of our home. I want them gone."

Tension radiates from Christian. I'm pretty wound up myself, but I think Christian is still blaming himself for Leila's actions.

"I want them out of here, too, but they're just doing their jobs. The three of us are safe. You, me, and our baby. We'll deal with things as they come." My reassurance doesn't seem to help. Christian's head slumps back in defeat. "Look at me."

"When will all the shit go away, so we can be happy?" Christian whispers. His pout turns my insides to goo.

"There will always be people who resent what we have. You and I must rely on each other and the people we love. We just have a lot of background noise to contend with, and we need to shut it out. Let's concentrate on each other."

"Baby, how do you do that? You always make me feel better."

Christian pushes me down on the sofa. He's propped up on his elbows, holding me down with the partial weight of his hard body. He makes a comforting blanket. He lays kisses across my neck and then wiggles his tongue around in the hollow at the base of my throat. It tickles and I can't hold back my laughter.

"Stop," I tell him, trying to squirm free.

"Okay, but you're not very convincing," he says. "I think that must have been one of those things that feels good and strange at the same time."

"You know me so well. The only reason I want you to stop is because someone could walk in on us. I want you to do that again later, when we're in bed."

"I sometimes forget myself when I'm with you. We don't want the cops to see things they shouldn't." Christian says, his lips touching mine. He pulls me up with him to a sitting position. "Is Bandi coming to our party?"

"Possibly. She'll get back to us to confirm. I thought we were limiting our invitations to family and close associates."

"When I go public with my story, I'll go through Kavanagh Media. I need to discuss it with Eamon, but I think Bandi might be the person for the interview. I want to know her better, just to be sure."

"How soon do you plan to share your past? And how much do you plan to tell?" This is an enormous decision with lifelong consequences.

"As soon as possible, and I want to tell everything, without the nasty details. Baby, I want you with me for the interview."

"Of course. Whatever you need." Christian is playing with my hair, and it's so relaxing. I stifle a yawn.

"Am I boring you?" Christian teases.

"No, that could never happen," I laugh as my husband tickles me under my armpit. "I feel a nap coming on. Will you tuck me in?"

Christian kisses my nose, scoops me up, and carries me off to our bed.

"I'll lie with you until you go to sleep," he says, and I drift away to his comforting scent and the warmth of his body.

 **Christian**

As soon as the police leave, I call Sawyer and Taylor into my study.

Both appear contrite.

"Tell me why I shouldn't fire both of you. How the fuck did Leila Williams get in here?"

Sawyer looks down at the carpet. Taylor takes a step forward.

"Sir, I think it's well established that she got in through the emergency staircase."

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious," I tell Taylor. "Why didn't we have procedures in place?"

"Sir, I meet regularly with Escala security. I've repeatedly instructed them on the importance of changing codes, but I have no authority over them. They're certainly listening to me now, since you unleashed your attorney."

"Fine. I'm trying to understand and accept your explanation. But why wasn't Sawyer in place? Goddammit! My wife is everything in the world to me, and she was left vulnerable."

"I was in the security office, and everything on the monitors looked fine," Sawyer says. "I left for just a few minutes. I had to take care of a personal problem."

What the actual fuck!

"Pack your shit. You're done. If you think you had a personal problem before, try this on for size. I'm going to make sure you never work in security again."

"Sir, please," Taylor implores, interceding on Sawyer's behalf. "Allow Luke to explain."

Sawyer can explain 'til the cows come home, but nothing will satisfy me.

"Fine. Explain," I tell Sawyer. "But I'm only hearing you out, because that's what my wife would want."

"Sir, Mrs. Grey was alone, busying herself in the kitchen. All appeared well, so I stepped away for a few minutes."

"To take care of a personal problem? What was so urgent?" Sawyer is red-faced. What is it he doesn't want to tell me?

"I had to drop a deuce, sir." Taylor chortles in response to Sawyer's confession. "I took care of business as quickly as I could, and raced to the kitchen as soon as I saw the altercation between Mrs. Grey and Miss Williams. Mrs. Grey appeared to have everything well in hand at that point, so I stood back and let her have her way with Miss Williams, until it appeared Miss Williams was losing consciousness."

"My wife could have been seriously injured. Why didn't you break things up earlier?"

"I could see Mrs. Grey was in control, and I think she needed that. She didn't have that same sense of empowerment when Mrs. Lincoln attacked her at your parents' house, so I let Mrs. Grey take out her aggressions on Miss Williams."

I must admit I feel a bit differently about things after Sawyer's explanation. I wish Anastasia had finished Leila off. I feel nothing but contempt for Leila.

In truth, I'm angry with myself for allowing things with Leila to get so out of hand. If only I'd instructed Gail to call the police when Leila broke into the apartment the first time. There are so many things I should have done differently. I'm as much to blame as anyone.

"Mistakes were made all the way around. You're on probation, Sawyer. Now both of you get out of here. Figure out how we can learn from this."

"Yes, sir," they say in unison.

"And thank you, Mr. Grey," Sawyer adds.

XXXXXXX

Lunch time has come and gone. Anastasia has been asleep for three hours. How long should a nap take?

I need my wife.

Taylor has informed me that Leila is on life support. I don't want to tell Anastasia, because I don't want her to feel any guilt. She valiantly defended herself and our unborn child.

I strip to my boxers. I want to wake Ana and have my way with her, but she is pregnant and needs her rest. I lie down next to her, pressing my front to her back. I'm impossibly hard. I grind gently against her bottom, hoping she'll wake.

Fuck. There's a soft knock at the door.

Damn the interruption. I get up and throw my jeans and t-shirt back on.

Cracking the door open, I see it's Taylor.

"Sir, Miss Kavanagh is here with a package for Mrs. Grey, and your parents just pulled into the garage. They heard something on the news about a break-in here, and rather than call, they decided to come over."

"Tell everyone I'll be out in a moment." I walk around to Ana's side of the bed, and bend over to brush my lips against hers.

What if I had lost her today? I hate my fucked up past and all the baggage that goes with it.

Katherine is standing in the entryway, studying my collection of Madonnas.

"I've been accused more than once of having Daddy issues, but it looks like you've got your own set of problems."

Such impertinence.

Too bad Katherine is so important to Ana and El. Otherwise I'd have Taylor escort her to the lobby.

"Why are you here?"

"The break in. Where's Ana? I need to know she's okay."

"She's fine. Sleeping."

"Well, I won't bother her. Please tell her I came by. She texted me this morning and asked if I could drop off a couple of things during my lunch break." Kate holds out a Nordstrom shopping bag, and I take it from her.

"If she needed something, my personal shopper could have arranged it." No need for Katherine to be involved.

"Caroline Acton at Neiman's. She was wonderful, helping us get everything together for the Montana trip. I plan to use her myself now." Katherine points at the shopping bag. "I didn't go shopping. Those are things from the apartment."

"Thank you for dropping them off. I'll give them to Ana as soon as she wakes up."

"Did you take another day off work?" Katherine cocks her head and peers at me, reminiscent of an inquisitive owl. She's so damned nosy.

"That wasn't my intention. I went to Grey House, but came home as soon as I heard about the intrusion. There's no way I'm in any mood to return to work."

The elevator dings and my parents emerge.

My mother rushes to greet me with a kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, Kate," my father says, giving her a sideways hug. Mother follows suit.

"It's lovely to see you both," Kate says. "I'm on my way out. Gotta get back to work."

"I wish you didn't have to leave. When will we see you again?" Mother's soft tone expresses affection for Katherine.

"Soon. There's the party on Saturday," Katherine says with a wink. "The weekend will be here before we know it."

After Katherine offers her goodbyes, Mother leads me to the sectional in the great room.

"Oh, darling, are you and Ana okay?" She asks, grasping my hand.

"Yes, we're fine. You didn't need to come all this way."

"Nonsense," Dad says. "We had to see for ourselves that you're safe. Where's Ana?"

"She's asleep. Exhausted." I lead my parents over to the sectional sofa.

"Ana is here?" Mother asks.

"Yes. She's moved in with me."

"That's lovely. I'm so happy things are going well between the two of you." Mother beams at the news.

"What happened? Who was the intruder?" Dad's voice is soft and reassuring, the way it was when I was a boy. "The news report was rather vague."

There's so much my parents don't know about me.

"One of my former submissives broke into the apartment, through the emergency staircase. She accosted Ana in the kitchen."

My parents look at me expectantly. They want details, but don't want to ask. They'll learn everything soon enough, so I may as well tell it all.

"Her name is Leila Williams. It's been a couple of years since I last saw her. It all goes back to Elena and the way she played our family. Elena and her friends, Lorna Stovall and Corinne Harmon were all in the lifestyle, and I think they got off on messing with our family. Lorna was Elena's best friend. Corinne was Lorna's daughter and Elena's goddaughter. Maybe they don't like seeing a happy family…I don't know. I can't wrap my head around it, but for years they've been…interfering with us. Leila was troubled, and I think Elena and her minions incited Leila to interrupt my happiness."

Mother wrings her hands and mutters something unintelligible.

"Jesus. Does Ana know all this?" Dad pulls at his hair.

"Yes, Ana knows everything. I need to get ahead of this, take hold of the narrative, and go public. Are you ready for that?"

Mother and Dad look at each and nod in agreement.

"Son," Dad says with a weak smile, "do what you need to do. We fully support your decisions."

I see the sincerity in Dad's eyes.

"Thank you, I plan to arrange an interview through Kavanagh Media as soon as possible."

"Eamon will do right by you," Dad says. "What do you need from us?"

"Your support is plenty." To speak openly with my parents about this and have their love is something EIena told me was an impossibility. The bitch has been proven wrong.

"I needed to see for myself that you and Ana are safe, but I also had another motive for wanting to see you today." Mother's eyes spill with tears. "You see, while you and Ana were on vacation in Hawaii, I broke the Hippocratic oath. If anyone finds out what I've done, I could lose my license."

What the hell. What on earth is she talking about?

"I used my hospital privileges to get into Elena's hospital room. I passed myself off as one of her physicians. I walked into her room without saying a word, stood off to the side, while a nurse removed Elena's bandages. Elena thought she was having her dressing changed. Her entire face was covered, with the exception of her mouth. She was shocked to see me. I spoke kindly to Elena, then asked the nurse to leave us alone. I held a mirror in front of Elena, forcing her to see the evidence of her self-destruction. She looks horrid. She's receiving pain management meds via IV. Sepsis has set in. It's an aggressive bug, and she's not responding to antibiotics. The prognosis doesn't look good. It was the first time Elena had seen her new appearance. She cried…can you believe it? Waterworks from Elena Lincoln."

Mother shakes her head in disbelief.

"That's extraordinary," I say. "In the twelve years I've known her, Elena has never succumbed to tears. I didn't know she was capable. Wow. The old whore actually has tear ducts."

"I called Elena every name in the book, and told her how much we all loathe her. I bragged on how happy you and Ana are, how she can expect to hear an engagement announcement soon." Mother's inflection puts a bit of a question mark at the end of the sentence.

"Elena said she loved our family, especially you." Mother rolls her eyes and lets out a huff. "I told her to go to hell. I took an oath to do no harm, but I let you down when you were fifteen, and I needed to give voice to the things she stole from you. But the physician in me and the part that loves God…those parts feel at odds with what I've done." Mother cries, burying her face in Dad's shoulder. He pulls her close.

"You did nothing wrong," Dad tells her. He turns to me with a concerned look. "Son, I went over the gala guest list with Eamon and Dana last night. It seems they know half the people on the list. As far as males named Jay, there were none. There were a couple dozen males with the names James, John, and the like, so it's next to impossible to pin down who might have spoken to Ana."

"What about Linc?" Mother sniffles and tries to compose herself. "Back in the early days when Elena and Linc were lovey-dovey, she used to call him Jay."

An affectionate Elena and Linc pairing is unimaginable, but when I consider all the things that have happened of late, nothing seems impossible.

"I'd forgotten all that," Dad replies. "The Kavanaghs do know Linc. I don't recall seeing him on the guest list."

"He was a last minute guest," Mother says. "I'm not sure there was time to add him to the roster. We spoke briefly that evening, and he said he wouldn't be staying for long. He made a very generous contribution."

It creeps me the fuck out to imagine Linc speaking to Ana, while hiding his identity.

"Now that we're reassured you're okay," Dad says, "it's best we go and give you some peace and quiet. We'll see you Saturday at your party. As far as we're concerned, it's the social event of the year. You've confused your aunts, uncles, and cousins. They're all attending your event, purely out of curiosity, I do believe. I can't wait to see their reactions. We'll see you then, son."

Mother grasps my forearms, and gives me another teary kiss on the cheek. Dad shakes my hand.

"Laters," I say, waving them off to the elevator.

As soon as the elevator closes, I turn to the bedroom, ready to pounce on my delicious wife.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. Damn it all.

"Cleve. What's up?" I say.

"How is Mrs. Grey?"

"She's well. As well as can be expected, given she wrestled an intruder this morning."

"I've spoken with the DA, and she agrees that Mrs. Grey acted in self defense."

"That's a relief. Det. Clarke left us with the possibility that there might be charges."

"I have more news. Elena Lincoln passed away at eight o'clock this morning. Her estate is to be split between you and her friend, Mrs. Stovall."

There was a time when Elena's passing would have left me devastated. Now I feel nothing but relief. I certainly don't want any of her tainted assets.

"Elena loved living large, so I doubt there's much to it, but please arrange for my share of the assets to go into a charitable trust."

"Will do," he says. "The cease and desist orders have been issued to the women in violation of their NDAs. I've also contacted Escala building management. They are anxious to settle out of court to avoid bad publicity. They agree to all the terms put forth by your security team for the duration of your condo ownership, and they've offered to refund a year's worth of condo maintenance fees."

"I can't wait to get the fuck out of here. Thanks, Cleve, for getting on top of everything so quickly. I do hope you and your wife are able to attend the festivities on Saturday."

"Yes, sir. We'll be there. If your party is what I think it is, my wife will faint from the shock. And I suspect she won't be alone. Sir, you've come a long way in a very short time."

I swear I can hear Cleve Anderson crack a smile.

"Thanks, Cleve. I'll be back in the office tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. See you then."

XXXXXXX

I strip off my clothes and crawl into the bed next to my wife, spooning her. The nearness of her always brings me comfort. She's only wearing panties, and they're the lacy peach ones that I like so much.

Her ass cheeks, so firm and round, are an invitation. I caress her bottom, gently so as not to wake her. I slide my hand over the curve of her hip to her soft, silken belly. My rigid cock finds its way between her legs.

Ana stirs and rolls to face me. Her eyes blink open and she gives me a sleepy smile.

"You've been asleep for quite a while," I tell her. "Is everything okay?"

She stretches and yawns.

"Yes. Sometimes when I'm stressed, I sleep a lot. Plus I'm pregnant, remember?" She kisses me, gently pulling my bottom lip into her mouth. "Your dick gave me a nice wake-up call, but I'm still groggy."

"Do you need more sleep?"

She picks up her phone and checks the time.

"No, I need to get up or I won't be able to sleep tonight. It's almost two. It wasn't the best nap. Dad called, upset over news reports he'd heard. I had to reassure him that the press had overblown everything. I told him there was really never any danger, that I had the intruder in hand. He plans to discuss the situation with you before the party."

Shit.

Ray Steele will not be happy to see me on Saturday. First there's the Leila situation, and then the small matter of me knocking up his daughter and whisking her off to Montana for a quickie elopement.

"Great way to start off a marriage. Your dad hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. He just has concerns. You worry too much. What have you been doing while I've been asleep? Were you able to get any work done?" Ana's hands roam my chest and shoulders. Her touch means everything.

"Cleve called to let me know Elena died. Mother saw her in the hospital and said she hadn't been doing well, so Elena's death isn't unexpected."

"Elena. Dead. How do you feel about that?"

"Relieved. That's all."

Ana studies my face. She uses her thumb to smooth the wrinkles between my eyes.

"You don't have to carry the weight of the world," she says. "Let me share the burden. You have a partner now. There are two of us."

"Yes, wifey," I say, trying to give her the smile she wants. "Oh, my parents came by to check on us. Katherine also came by to check in, and dropped off a bag."

Anastasia perks up at the mention of the bag.

"Where is it?" She sits up to look around.

"Over there." I point to the silver Nordstrom's bag.

"Ooh," Ana says. She exits the bed, all her interest focused on pawing through the bag contents. "Stay where you are."

"I'm certainly not going anywhere," I tell her. "I hoped we could spend time enjoying each other. After this shitty day, I need to be inside you."

"You've read my mind, Mr. Grey. Close your eyes. Don't open them until I tell you. Be right back."

My wife retreats to the bathroom carrying the bag with her. I dutifully close my eyes. My imagination immediately strays to visions of my dick in Ana's mouth.

It isn't long before I hear the bathroom door.

"Open your eyes."

Ana has braided her hair to one side. She has applied red lipstick and she's wearing some kind of black and red halter dress. She twirls around, and fuck me, it's an apron. Her bottom is bare, and her boobs are spilling out of the sides of the front. She's wearing black stilettos, Louboutins with a bow on the back at the base of her ankle.

"Baby, you are so fine. What's the occasion?"

"Do I look a bit like a French maid? That's the look I'm going for. I'm here to serve you, Monsieur Grey."

God, I love this woman.

"But what if I want to serve you, Madame Grey? Don't I need a costume?"

"You're perfect in that birthday suit of yours. I love it when we're Ana and Christian, but right now let's pretend we're far away. Maybe Provence or Paris. Speak French to me. Be my mysterious French lover."

"Fuck, yes. Come here, baby. Tu m'excites."

Anastasia slowly crawls up the bed to me. The sight of her makes me want to skip the foreplay and go straight to plowing her field.

Down, boy. Easy.

I pull her into my arms, and kiss her with abandon. What's French role play without French kisses?

"I've never loved anyone but you. Tu es la seule, Madame Grey."

As adorable as she looks in this costume, I need to be rid of it. It's in my way. I kiss her neck, as I untie the apron and toss it to the floor.

Skin against skin. It's heaven to have her soft, warm body beneath mine. I work my way down her body, pausing to kiss each part of her, whispering my love for her.

"J'aime sentir ta peau contre la mienne. You are so fucking beautiful. You are mine."

"Yes, yours," she answers. "Always."

"Toujours." She will always belong to me. I will see to that.

"I want you inside me." Instinctively Ana's body arches toward mine.

I drag my dick up and down through her slick folds.

"Always so wet for me," I say. "Je suis fou de toi."

"Please," she begs. "I need to feel you inside me."

What my woman wants, she gets.

"J'adore sentir tes seins frotter contre mon torse." As I move inside her, Ana's lush breasts rub against my bare chest. It's a glorious feeling.

I pull out and push her legs straight up, so the shoes are around my ears. I make a mental note to buy her a pair in every color.

As I move in and out, I keep my eyes on Anastasia. My beautiful wife is a glowing image of fire, passion, and love. I am home. I'm where I've always belonged. I feel Ana's body clench against mine, and I know she has also found her home.

"Être enterré au plus profond de toi c'est le nirvana." To be buried deep inside her is a state of perfect happiness. Nothing can ever surpass the feelings I share with my Ana.

 **Friday, June 24, 2011**

 **Anastasia**

As soon as Christian leaves for work, I text Kate.

 **You're sure Mama K won't be there?**

I'm meeting Kate at Mama K's shop to choose the dress I'll wear when Christian and I greet guests tomorrow evening. I also need to try on my wedding gown. I've been trying to get to the shop all week long, but Mama K was always around. I want her to be surprised. I most definitely do not want her to see me carrying my wedding gown out of the shop.

Christian has been dying to see both of the dresses I'm wearing tomorrow night.

I told him they won't be delivered until tomorrow afternoon, otherwise he'll be snooping through closets.

My phone pings with a text. I think it must be Kate, but it's Christian.

 **I miss you, my beauty. I've never looked forward to weekends the way I do with you.**

Oh, he's the sweetest husband ever. We have pledged to make the most of each and every day with one another.

Another ping. Kate.

 **Mom has a dental appointment in Bellevue. Hurry up.**

"Sawyer," I call out, as I walk to the kitchen. "I'm ready to go."

Gail hands Sawyer a green insulated tumbler.

She hands me a white one that says "Wifey."

"Tea for you, Ana," Gail says.

"Thank you for taking such good care of us. Did you have good luck finding a dress yesterday?"

"Yes, I enjoyed my day off, and Ms. Acton found the perfect gown. It's mint green. Chiffon."

"That color is perfect for you. Franco and his team are coming tomorrow afternoon to do our hair and nails. I think you're first on the schedule."

"Miss Grey contacted me. Thank you for including me," Gail says.

"We can't have a wedding ceremony without you," I say. She has taken such good care of Christian, and now she also takes care of me. Gail is so kind, so loving, and so maternal. "I'll be doing a bit of shopping, then having lunch with Kate and Mia."

"Have a great day," Gail says. I wish her the same.

"Sawyer, please don't say anything to my husband, or Taylor, about picking up my dresses today. I want Christian to think they are being delivered tomorrow."

Sawyer's eyes are wide with concern. Out of frustration, he jabs at the elevator button.

"Mrs. Grey, I'm on probation. I can't withhold your comings and goings from Mr. Grey."

"You won't be fired for keeping my little secret." Sawyer doesn't seem convinced. "I know you aren't used to working for two employers, and I would understand perfectly, if I were doing something that conflicted with your morals. But hiding two dresses for twenty-four hours can't possibly violate your principles."

"I just don't want to lose my job." Sawyer purses his lips and shuffles his feet.

"You won't lose your job over this. I promise." I can see how working for a married couple can cause conflict for employees. Christian and I need to work this out between ourselves and set guidelines for staff. There's so much for me to learn as I take on the role of wife.

"Very well, Mrs. Grey."

XXXXXXX

Dana Kavanagh Designs fills an old brick firehouse on the edge of Pioneer Square. Inside it's four floors of understated elegance.

Kate and Mia squeal as I enter the shop. Soon I am surrounded by hugs, feeling much love.

"Do I get to see you in your bridesmaid dresses?" I ask. "You're being just as secretive with me, as I'm being with Christian. I'm not sure how I feel about that."

I don't really mind at all. I like the idea of being surprised, and I know the dresses will be the height of good taste.

"Ros met us here earlier in the week and we easily found choices we could agree on," Kate says.

"Alterations have been made and we've already picked up our dresses."

"Hello, Ana." Mrs. Gould, a white-haired grandmother, is Mama K's shop manager. She greets me with a warm hug.

"Thank you for being our secret keeper," I say. "I know it's difficult to keep anything from Mama K."

"You're most welcome. I'm having so much fun playing cloak and dagger. Let's get you upstairs to a fitting room."

A wide curved staircase leads us from the first floor showroom to the second floor bridal section.

I gasp when I see my bridal gown hanging in the spacious dressing room. It's even more beautiful than I remembered.

"Quickly, before Mrs. Kavanagh returns, let's get you into the gown. I can't remember which veil you wore with this. How are you planning to wear your hair? And what kind of jewelry?"

"Very simple pearls. Franco wants to put my hair up in a chignon. I wore my hair down for the bridal shows."

"Let me find a veil and a very simple, elegant comb that won't compete with the pearls. Oh, this is so exciting." Mrs. Gould's enthusiasm is infectious. With all the tumult of the past week, I haven't been able to manage much fervor over our wedding celebration. I needed this visit.

"Off with that dress, Mrs. Grey," Kate says. "I love this navy sheath. It's very you. Understated and elegant."

"Yes, that suits you," Mia adds.

"Caroline Acton," I answer. "Christian arranged for a trousseau of sorts."

"And this lingerie? Va-va-voom, girl," Mia giggles.

"You look hot in that bra, but your dress is off the shoulder, so you'll need this." Kate hands me a strapless bra, which I promptly exchange with the lacy one.

"Your tits are perfect," Mia says. "Jeez, I don't want to think about you with my brother, but after seeing your tits, now that's all I can think about. Ugh."

"Christian does seem well-pleased by them," I tell her. She squirms uncomfortably at my teasing.

Kate helps me into the dress. She patiently does up each and every button, then steadies me as Mia assists me with stepping into satin pumps. These are kitten heels, as Kate knows I have difficulty managing stilettos for long periods of time.

"The dress length is perfect. In fact, I think the dress looks better than ever. Pregnancy has filled you out a bit and you look…juicy." Kate heartily approves, and her opinion means a great deal to me.

"You're beautiful," Mia says. "Truly. Christian will flip."

Because I am height challenged, Mrs. Gould has brought two veils, shoulder length and elbow length. After much discussion and input from my friends, I choose the elbow length. It's ivory to match the dress and whisper sheer, so the tiny buttons and details on the back of the dress show through.

When Mrs. Gould presents me with a velvet lined tray of comb choices, I know without any deliberation which is mine.

Seed pearls are wired together to form flowers and leaves. The comb will look perfect with my sweet sixteen pearls and earrings.

Mrs. Gould steps out of the room to box up the veil and comb. Kate sets to work unbuttoning my dress.

"What jewelry has Christian given you to wear with your dress?" Mia stands, hands on hips, her brows knitted in confusion. "He's supposed to give you something to commemorate your wedding, something to wear on your wedding day."

"Have you forgotten? Christian and I are already married. I don't need a thing. I have my wedding band, my love bracelet, and the sweet sixteen pearls and earrings my dad gave me."

Mia frowns.

"The groom must give the bride something special," she says, as if it's law. "It appears I need to educate my brother."

"Don't you dare say a word to him." I don't bother to keep the aggravation from my voice. "He's had a shit week and I don't want him stressed. Promise me."

"Fine. I promise. Not a word. But people will wonder why you're not sporting something akin to the Hope Diamond." Mia's voice softens. "You look gorgeous without any adornment, and I don't want you to think otherwise. It's the way we were raised. Dad always lavished Mom with lovely things. Both of you should expect lots of spoiling from my brothers."

"Christian does spoil me. I have everything a woman could want or need." I instinctively touch my belly.

Kate nudges me with her elbow.

"Slip the bodice down and brace yourself against me. Then step," she says. "Mia, can you hand me the hanger?"

"I apologize for not being more helpful," Mia says. "Here."

With great care, Kate hangs up the dress and places it in a specially designed garment bag.

"Could you find Mrs. Gould and bring those gowns she pulled?" Kate asks Mia.

"Sure. Be right back," Mia says.

"Mia doesn't know you yet," Kate whispers. "She's immature, but her intentions are good, and she's very fond of you."

"I know. I'm fond of her, too. I'm not upset with her. Christian and I have a lot on our plates. The last thing we need to worry about is what other people think of our gift giving habits."

"I know things have been difficult. Oh, honey, you don't have to be brave and strong with me. If you want to fall apart, I'm here for you."

"I could definitely use a Bug Hug."

Kate pulls me to her, holds me tight and rocks us back and forth in our embrace.

"I know that husband of yours is giving you the high hard one all night long, but I like to think there's nothing like a bestie hug to help drive away the blues."

I can't help but laugh. Katie-Bug Kavanagh is good medicine.

"Thanks, Bug. You do know what I need."

Mia sweeps into the room, holding three gowns aloft.

"The red one is to die for, but I like the blue one too," Mia says.

She hangs the dresses on separate hooks, and we all step back to appraise them.

"The coral pink is lovely, but that neckline is too low for me. The blue one is nice, but the red satin is my favorite. It gives off a 'Pretty Woman' vibe."

"It really does," Mia says. "But it begs for some jewelry."

"Enough about jewelry," Kate says. "We'll worry about accessories later. Let's see how it looks."

Kate removes the dress from the hanger, and unzips it.

"Step," she orders. Kate pulls the dress up, holding it out so I can slip my arms through the short sleeves. The sleeves sit off the shoulder and the trumpet skirt flatters my shape. The dress is surprisingly comfortable.

"Oh, Ana. It fits like a glove," Mia exclaims. "You have to get this one."

"She's right," Kate says. "It's perfection. A wonderful vehicle for introducing yourself as Christian's partner."

I look at myself in the mirror, and see an adult. I'm a grown-up, a married woman with a baby growing inside me.

"I love it. This is the one." I turn to Mia. "I have the drop earrings Christian gave me, the ones I wore to the gala. Will those work?"

"Yes. Those will work fine. I guess you really do have everything you need," Mia says with a smile.

Mrs. Gould packages everything up for me. I pull out my wallet, to produce my newly minted AmEx card.

"There's no charge, Ana. The wedding gown has always been yours. We were just storing it for you. Mrs. Kavanagh left strict instructions that your party gown is to be a gift."

I am moved to tears and words have left me.

Kate and Mia take turns hugging me and drying my tears.

I have the love of a magnificent man, sweet friends, and devoted family. I am beyond rich.

XXXXXXX

"I hope Dad doesn't blow off our party. Fancy occasions aren't exactly his thing. What if he's a no-show?"

"Call your father, if you're worried," Christian says. "You won't sleep with all this anxiety."

I'm nervous and out of sorts. I want tomorrow's festivities to go well. What if Dad decides not to come? After all, he has no idea the true nature of the party and its importance. We've spoken twice this week, and he's confirmed, but what if he forgets?

It's ten o'clock and Dad should still be up.

He answers on the first ring.

"What's up, sweetheart?"

"Not much. Just wanted to confirm that you're coming to the party and that you'll be here in time to have someone fit you with a tux."

"This must be one hell of an important party. Still don't understand why your Uncle José and I need to be there. We'll arrive by lunch. Is that enough time?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Your boyfriend sent me codes to his parking garage and elevator. Sounds complicated. Fancy."

"It's a nice apartment. I think you'll enjoy your stay. The party won't be stuffy and you already know some of the folks who will be there."

"Explain the reason for this shindig again. I still don't understand."

"Christian's business is mergers and acquisitions. The party is to celebrate what he calls the deal of a lifetime. I'll explain more when you arrive tomorrow."

"I've never worn a tux before…Do you remember when I offered you money for prom? You refused, said you wouldn't go because of some warning you read in a philosophy book. You said you'd never spend money on a fancy dress, just to impress folks. You were very firm about it. Seems you're singing a different tune since Grey came into the picture."

The real reason for not going to prom had less to with philosophy and more to do with a lack of confidence.

"I had just read Thoreau." I laugh out loud at the remembrance of it. "He said, 'Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes.' I've changed my mind about that. Being with Christian requires more attention to my appearance than I ever imagined. For the party, I'm wearing the sweet sixteen pearls you gave me."

"That's nice." I hear a hitch in Dad's breathing. "I'm so glad you enjoy wearing them."

"Two of my favorite things are those pearls and the hope chest you built for me. You made my sixteenth birthday so special."

"I was grateful to have my little girl back home with me. And there was no Carla to bitch and moan over Frank's memory. It was the first birthday we could openly celebrate on the proper date."

"You've been a wonderful father. I couldn't have asked for a better dad."

"Hey, you tryin' to make an old man cry?"

"I'm just happy and grateful. I can't wait to see you tomorrow."

"Ditto." I hear a sniffle from Dad's end.

"Do you have room in the truck for my hope chest? I'd like to have it here with me in Seattle."

"Of course. Since I'll have the chest, should I stop by your apartment first, or go straight to Grey's?"

"Come directly to Christian's apartment. I'll be here waiting for you."

"I can't wait to see you. Sounds like tomorrow will be a big day."

"Yes, a big day."

 **XXXXXXX**

 **Gentle Reader,**

 **Ana and Christian have certainly had more than their share of trouble, but the next chapter will find them happily celebrating their nuptials with family and friends at the Mile High Club. Ray will walk Ana down the aisle and our favorite couple will exchange public vows.**

 **As always I am happy to give spoilers and discuss story elements, so please feel free to PM me. I enjoy hearing from you.**

 **All the best, Paula AKA T Traveller**


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